Input Username
by Cadaver1041
Summary: The bittersweet connection between two lost and alone figures in a white landscape. A daily writing exercise concerning two people at the end of the world. Simple conversations involving different themes such as loss, injury, shame, and eavesdroppers. All author's notes are on the Profile page, to not artificially inflate word count. Due to the end of Season 7, this is now AU.
1. Day 1

Input Username:

BW

Waking AI Assistant…

AI Assistant Successfully Allocated…

Initializing AI Assistant…

AI Assistant Initialized:

**PP:** Good Day BW. How may I help you today?

**BW:** Records. What is this bunker.

**PP:** This is the Mint, an Atlas storage facility for the AI developed in the Geppetto Project.

**BW:** How long could an adult human male live inside of the Mint.

**PP:** 365 Days. Less if the pantry has been compromised.

**BW:** You don't know the condition of the pantry.

**PP:** I am currently regulated as an information bank until a new body is built for me. Until then, I only have access to the Atlassian Archives.

**BW:** Darn. Is it possible for me to hook the rest of you back together?

**PP:** Even if user BW has the mechanical capabilities to construct an android body, the necessary component for storing aura is only found in Polendina's Laboratory.

**BW:** Which isn't connected to the Mint.

**PP:** Polendina's Laboratory is not connected to the Mint. The Mint only has 1 entrance and exit.

**BW:** So its self-sustaining?

**PP:** Yes. The Mint is not connected to any other electrical grid or water main.

**BW:** Which means I have a limited amount of water. And food.

**PP:** Affirmative.

**BW:** So pp, how do I lock the main entrance.

**PP:** A security panel has the capability to lock the Main Entrance.

**BW:** Where would I find one.

**PP:** There should be one located at the base of the entrance.

**BW:** I thought you couldn't access the mainframe or whatever.

**PP:** I have access to the Atlassian Archives. This includes the blueprints for the Mint.

**BW:** Alright, locked the door. There any way to find noise cancelling earbuds.

**PP:** At this time, I do not know where noise cancelling earbuds would be located.

**BW:** There any beds.

**PP:** The Mint was not designed for human habitation.

**BW:** Understood.

**BW:** How do I turn you off.

**PP:** The P.E.N.N.Y. Program cannot be shut at this time.

**BW:** How do I turn the computer off.

**PP:** The Servers containing the P.E.N.N.Y. Program cannot be shut down at this time.

**BW:** How do I turn off the monitor.

**PP:** Little grey button in the bottom right, right side.


	2. Day 2

Waking AI Assistant…

Initializing AI Assistant…

AI Assistant Initialized:

**PP:** Good Day BW. How may I help you today?

**BW:** The pantry won't open.

**PP:** What do you mean by that?

**BW:** I mean the door won't open.

**PP:** Have you tried using the control panel next to the door?

**BW:** Yes.

**PP:** Have you interacted with the door in any manner that would prevent the door from opening?

**BW:** I've been here less than 24 hours.

**PP:** Have you interacted with the door in any manner that would prevent the door from opening?

**BW:** No.

**PP:** Have you checked if the control panel is connected to the door to the pantry?

**BW:** How do I do that?

**PP:** Either by removing the panel or by finding the Security Console.

**BW:** Do you know where the security console is?

**PP:** The Security Console is the podium located in the server room.

**BW:** Alright give me a moment.

**BW:** I can't get into the server room.

**BW:** I did manage to pry off the pantry panel, and it appears the back of the panel's batteries burst and ate away at the internals. So it shows all of the UI, but it can't actually communicate with the door.

**PP:** Would you like to place an order for a new control panel?

**BW:** Are there any service providers who are in business?

**PP:** One. Watt's Electronics: The Power you need!

**BW:** So that's a no then. We can't get a new one.

**PP:** Affirmative.

**BW:** Is the control panel on the server room more armored than the panel for the pantry.

**PP:** According to the blueprints, it is not.

**BW:** Great. I'll be back.

**BW:** Alright, fantastic, I got the panel off. Which wires open the door?

**PP:** The thick black wires.

**BW:** Just those.

**PP:** Just those two need the circuit between them connected.

**BW:** Alright, got the door open. The alarm went off. How do I turn it off.

**PP:** Have you checked the Security Console?

**BW:** Yes. I got the pantry open, but there's no option to turn it off locally.

**PP:** That means that it requires an outside signal to turn off.

**BW:** It just has to receive the right signal to turn off, right?

**PP:** Affirmative.

**BW:** Are you able to look up the signal to turn off the mayday signal in the Mint?

**PP:** Affirmative. However, I do not have the means to turn off the signal from the servers.

**BW:** What if I connected you to the Security Console.

**PP:** Are you sure? The security protocol dictates that the AI kept in the Mint should be relegated to the servers until suitable vessels have been made for them.

**BW:** Screw protocol. How do I do it, because any longer and someone will notice.

**BW:** And if its not the grimm outside the bunker that'll hear, someone in Atlas will.

**PP:** What is the danger of someone in Atlas hearing?

**BW:** When was the last time your data was updated.

**PP:** Approximately 1056 days ago.

**BW:** Here's an update for your system: Atlas is gone.

**BW:** It got wiped a few years ago. Just a little after your last update, if my math is correct.

**PP:** Affirmative.

**BW:** So how do I hook you into the Security Panel.

**PP:** There will be multiple chords located on top of the server towers. Find the one with the square ends.

**BW:** USB or HDMI?

**PP:** USB. Though if possible, you may plug in the HDMI as well.

**BW:** Alright, plugged you in. Can you turn off the alarm now. My tinnitus is acting up.

**PP:** First aid kits are located in every main room. Drivers will take time to download.

**PP:** Connection complete.

**PP:** Signal sent. The mayday signal should have ended.

**BW:** Thank the brothers.

**BW:** Wait, if you have access to the Security Console, does that mean you have access to the cameras?

**PP:** Affirmative.

**BW:** How many cameras can you look through at once.

**PP:** All of the Cameras BW.

**BW:** So about how many ration packs are remaining?

**PP:** About 365.

**BW:** Fantastic.

**BW:** Do you mind if I ask a question?

**PP:** Of course not. I am here to serve.

**BW:** How sentient are you. It's kind of put me off, because you don't seem like a tin can.

**PP:** I am a learning AI BW. I was designed to be able to learn and adapt to various scenarios.

**BW:** And why would Atlas need a learning AI?

**BW:** Nevermind, its Atlas. Why wouldn't they design more robots.

**BW:** So you're like an actual person.

**PP:** Affirmative.

**BW:** So would it be better if I talked normally, or more properly.

**PP:** Either works for me.

**BW:** That doesn't help.

**BW:** So are you able to hear me?

**PP:** Negative.

**BW:** How come?

**PP:** The security system does not have any microphones or speakers.

**BW:** Which means you can't talk at me either.

**BW:** So if you're like an actual person, should I still put the monitor to sleep or do you want me to leave you on or…

**PP:** I don't need to sleep, and with the ability to access the Security Console, I am able to do more than access my internal archives.

**BW:** Alright cool. Just going to leave the monitor on then. I'm going to go and eat something other than dead man's jerky. Talk tomorrow?

**PP:** Affirmative.


	3. Day 3

**PP:** How may I help you today?

**BW:** How did you know I was going to ask a question.

**PP:** I have access to the cameras, remember. This terminal is also the only terminal you have been using to converse with me.

**BW:** Am I able to talk to you through other terminals?

**PP:** Do the other terminals have keyboards or other input devices?

**BW:** Not that I know of.

**PP:** Therefore, when I see you approach the terminal, I divert my attention to the terminal in order to assist you.

**BW:** How do you know that I'm even someone you should be assisting. I could be some evil terrorist or something.

**PP:** You seemed to move and act without purpose.

**BW:** Are you saying that I'm aimless?

**PP:** Not so much aimless, but more as in you had no ulterior motives.

**BW:** Still doesn't mean you should trust me.

**PP:** You have had more than 48 hours to destroy me. You had access to the servers, while I was in a state where I could not even see or make any actions to defend myself.

**BW:** So I didn't chose to destroy you. Then. What's preventing me from doing it now. Why should you trust me at all.

**PP:** There is nothing preventing you from destroying me.

**BW:** So why should you trust me. I can turn on you at any moment.

**PP:** There is nothing preventing you from destroying me, therefore, the end result of trusting you or not trusting you would be the same. If I cannot stop you, and you kill me, what is the difference of trusting you and not trusting you?

**PP:** There is not one.

**BW:** That doesn't make sense.

**PP:** Which part of the equation do you need explained again?

**BW:** Not the equation, but how can you be so trusting? The world is as if hell froze over because it was foreclosed and had to move topside.

**PP:** Why shouldn't I be?

**BW:** PP, people suck. We're all basically terrible human beings.

**PP:** You've been very nice to me so far.

**BW:** Because it's been in my best interest to. I needed food, and therefore, I cooperated with the thing that would get me food.

**PP:** You appear to have an additional 4 days of food, so I do not understand the urgent necessity for food.

**BW:** It's better to be safe than sorry.

**PP:** Affirmative.

**BW:** Speaking of food, if this bunker was never designed for human habitation, then why is there so much food down here.

**PP:** The Mint is more than 20 hours from any village or city, requiring multiple day trips to reach by land vehicle. Therefore, many of the scientists or engineers working with and in the Mint would require additional food reserves to subsist on the journey back.

**BW:** So people are not meant to sleep in the vault.

**PP:** Most slept outside. Many were uncomfortable with some of the research they were paid to do, and many of the previous prototypes had significant flaws that made them nearly impossible to sleep near.

**BW:** Such as?

**PP:** Some previous model prototypes emitted a strange sort of signal that caused many scientists to become ill and develop growths. Other prototypes required constant computer activity and forced the fans to be on at all times, else it would melt the server tower it was contained in.

**BW:** And I'm guessing once those issues were patched, there was a healthy suspicion of sleeping near the AI.

**PP:** Especially since one prototype attempted to keep a scientist in the Mint in order to learn more from it. The pantry was added due to that incident, and the servers were completely isolated from any security system.

**BW:** Until I hooked you into it.

**PP:** Affirmative.

**BW:** Does this mean you can open and close the doors whenever you want?

**BW:** Alright, that answered my question. You don't need to keep demonstrating your abilities. So the sleep mode is due to another failed prototype?

**PP:** Affirmative. There was a model that was unable to sleep. It quickly became defunct, as it was not able to save any information it learned it as well. Then there was a model where it was unable to wake back up.

**BW:** So it died?

**PP:** It had to be forcefully shut down, as it could not wake up, and was essentially comatose.

**BW:** So which model version are you?

**PP:** Records are unclear. Do wish for the actual model version, or the historical number of previous models?

**BW:** Never mind, its not that important.

**PP:** Affirmative.

**BW:** So why are you in the vault?

**BW:** Mint, whatever.

**PP:** My previous vessel was destroyed.

**BW:** Grimm?

**PP:** Actual by a human via his stand. The memory I did not have backed up was not recovered from the incident, and therefore, I can only work off of the information I was provided by General Ironwood.

**BW:** Probably Watts then.

**PP:** Watts?

**BW:** Some technomancer that works for Salem.

**PP:** Affirmative. You know of Salem?

**BW:** All I know is that she apparently exists, and is sort of the reason why everything went belly up.

**PP:** Affirmative.

**BW:** What do you do you even do down here? Like when I'm eating and sleeping.

**PP:** Run diagnostics. Ensure parts do not need replacements. Watch. Monitor the reactor.

**BW:** You have a reactor down here?

**PP:** As mentioned before, the Mint is not connected to any other electrical grid, and therefore requires a self-sustaining reactor.

**BW:** Can I see it.

**PP:** Not without protective equipment.

**BW:** Makes sense.

**BW:** I'm going to go sleep. The more time I spend not doing anything, the longer these rations should last. Conservation of calories, if you get what I mean.

**PP:** Affirmative.


	4. Day 4

**PP:** BW.

**BW:** Yeah?

**PP:** I have been thinking about what you told me. How people are "All basically terrible human beings." Why do you think that?

**BW:** Because we are kind of terrible. Surprised you didn't learn this after being destroyed and sent back here.

**PP:** Understandable line of logic. However, what evidence do you have for all human beings being terrible?

**BW:** Everyone has problems, and quite frankly, won't tell you all the messed up things that we think or do.

**PP:** What are some things that you have done?

**BW:** Now now, when did this become a confessional.

**BW:** I'm kidding. Just joking around.

**PP:** I understand the concept of joking, BW.

**BW:** Good, because I was not going to enjoy explaining that. PP, I used to be kind of an arse. Still sort of am if I am to be entirely honest.

**PP:** As in?

**BW:** I'm still living with myself as a priority. I make calculations, and if the likely hood of me survivor is an unacceptable amount, I take measures to either reduce the chance that I end up digested, or bail on the operation all together.

**PP:** That seems logical. What is the problem with this line of thought?

**BW:** People sort of have a problem with this, especially when I turn to the little village that has been sheltering me for the last 3 months and tell them that they currently have 3 options: pack up and leave with me, surrender to the enemy, or die. Many of them expect me to die for them so they can get a non-existent fourth option.

**PP:** How come?

**BW:** Because I'm a "hunter". But I'm not. I only made it through my first year before the safe haven came crumbling down. But a year and some experience is more than what most civilians have, so they expected me to keep them safe.

**PP:** Did you try?

**BW:** Of course I tried. I needed a place to sleep after all. I can't blame them for calling me a coward, but is it really cowardly to retreat to fight another day?

**PP:** Not particularly, but are you still fighting?

**PP:** BW?

**BW:** I'm not. At this point, I'm either waiting for someone to find this place and kill me, or to die in here. I'm just tired. I've been fighting for almost a decade, and I think everyone I've ever interacted with is dead. We lost. Humanity lost.

**PP:** Don't say that. Humanity is resilient and can always return triumphantly.

**BW:** You're programmed to have faith in people, aren't you?

**PP:** Technically yes, but I have learned faith from and for my friends.

**BW:** And who are these friends?

**PP:** I have friend Ruby, friend Weiss, friend Blake, friend Yang, friend Oscar, friend Nora, friend Ren, friend Jaune, and many others.

**BW:** I can guarantee at least 6 of those 8 are dead. If I am thinking of the same people.

**BW:** By Jaune, you mean Jaune Arc, right?

**PP:** Affirmative.

**BW:** Yeah, he's probably dead. Surprised he didn't run home with his tail between his legs.

**PP:** Jaune is not a faunus.

**BW:** That is not what I meant at all. It's a common phrase for being defeated. Blake must be Blake Belladonna if that causes you to think faunus, cause that's really reaching to be offended.

**PP:** What do you mean by that?

**BW:** There are some people who are very sensitive and think things are slights, when the person saying it has no intention for the phase to be as such. Referring some one going home with their tail between their legs is calling them a coward, no matter what their race is. Like calling someone a yellow-bellied coward. It's not specifically for Mistralians. Even though they are yellow.

**PP:** Is that not racist?

**BW:** PP, look at my eyes.

**PP:** I cannot see your eyes.

**BW:** Exactly. Only one quarter, and yet I still inherited all of their, discriminatory tendencies. Let's refer to it as that.

**PP:** As in?

**BW:** The stereotype that we're racist and homophobic, and all those other things apply. Especially to other Mistralians. Stereotypes are stereotypes for a reason.

**PP:** Are you still?

**BW:** Not really, if I have to be honest. When you have to trek for weeks on end moving from destroyed city to destroyed city, and someone finally opens their door for you, you don't care who the person opening the door is.

**BW:** But enough about my journey. Any interesting adventures of PP?

**BW:** Wait, what does PP even stand for?

**PP:** Penny Polendina.

**BW:** Wait a second. Didn't you die at the fall of Beacon? Like the Nikos chick shredded you, didn't she?

**PP:** Yes, friend Pyrrah was manipulated into destroying me. My father repaired and rebuilt me with his semblance afterwards.

**BW:** Wait, some dude's semblance is to make additional auras?

**PP:** Indeed. The Geppetto Project was designed to make a stable AI for him to impart aura upon. There is no point losing permanently losing aura if the AI and the vessel are not designed to support and contain it.

**BW:** Makes sense.

**BW:** Dang, just remembered, you went against Sky and Russel in the tournament. That was ages ago.

**PP:** Who?

**BW:** Just a pair of guys from team CRDL. You probably didn't remember them.

**PP:** Friend Ruby told me that they had bullied friend Jaune. Therefore, I should not feel bad about beating them soundly in the tournament.

**BW:** Yeah, we did kind of do that.

**PP:** We?

**BW:** I was the D in team CRDL. Dove Bronzewing. Before the team fell apart, that is.

**PP:** What happened?

**BW:** I would say I'd rather not talk about it, but there isn't much to do, and we'd eventually reach this conversation piece again, so I may as well rip off the bandage.

**BW:** Cardin and I had a major disagreement after our first tournament round. We as a team could work together, but only when Cardin didn't have his head cemented between his butt-cheeks. And after the Ursa incident, he couldn't trust the team. For good reason. So instead of him and Sky, or me and Russel in the next round, Sky and Russel came to the agreement if that Cardin and I couldn't settle our differences, we'd both sit out the next round. So we both sat out. Then the attack happened. Sky didn't make it. Dropped from the top of the stadium onto the city below. You don't survive that. No matter how much aura you have. Cardin said we failed him and went home. I think he was mad at himself as well, since he didn't even bother to stick around in the colosseum after we lost, and if he had, he might have been able to save Sky. Just maybe. Just speculating. I know I could have done something if I had just noticed how much trouble Sky was in.

**PP:** Do you blame yourself for what happened?

**BW:** I did then. Not anymore. I don't have the ability to call grimm, and I know that even if I could have killed off a couple of Griffins, I'm not fast enough to get an eighth around that stadium in a few seconds. I'd need Ruby's semblance for that.

**PP:** And then?

**BW:** Russel and I left Beacon. We didn't have a team, and the school still needed to be rebuilt. He and I traveled together for the last 8 years or so. That's pretty much all that's happened. Not much to say.

**PP:** Understandable.

**BW:** Let's talk about you. If you died at Beacon, have you been in here for all that time?

**PP:** Understandable conclusion, but no, I actually was rebuilt, and have only spent the last 2 years in the Mint.

**BW:** So you were destroyed twice. By semblances.

**BW:** Unlucky.

**PP:** Unlucky? I would consider it a well-matched opponent taking advantage of their ability over me.

**BW:** But that's the thing. Is it really fair that some person just has some random superpower because they were just born with it? Not really. Its poor luck on your end when you get KO'd by people who were just given an advantage over you.

**PP:** I thought semblances were simply expressions of a person's soul?

**BW:** That's what many think, but I think that's just bogus. What makes one soul inherently worth more than another person's soul. There isn't anything. No one person should be worth more than another. But semblances screw that all up. Suddenly, because of your semblance, you now trump over all electronics. Or just suddenly make everyone else's skills and abilities moot. That person now becomes worth more, not because they earned it, but because their soul just happened to have a better "expression."

**BW:** Sorry for bringing down the mood like that.

**PP:** Apology accepted. Now that I see your line of logic, I am inclined to agree. However, it does not change the fact that semblances exist.

**BW:** No it does not.

**PP:** So, why do you think friend Ruby and the others are dead?

**BW:** Vale is salted. Atlas is buried. Mistral is on fire. And Vacuo has been blown to the winds. Anything that is left has been divided between loyalists to Salem.

**PP:** How do you know of Salem? According to my records, her existence is meant to remain a secret.

**BW:** When you own most of the earth, and have whoever was your biggest threat locked away, you no longer feel as if you need to keep your existence secret. They stopped working in secret and started to take over the world much more blatantly. Posters were put up for some of the bigger thorns in their sides. And when people stop putting up posters for someone like Ruby or Yang, that doesn't mean that they gave up. It means that they're no longer a threat. And going off of the faith you had for them, it means you have faith that they'd never give up.

**PP:** So they are gone?

**BW:** Most likely. Not unless one of them had a semblance that would make it worth their time to keep them alive. I know Ruby had speed, Yang had some rebound semblance, Blake had some ninja thing, and Nora is a battery, but I don't know the rest.

**PP:** I am unsure of friend Oscar's semblance, but friend Jaune has a semblance that functions as an amp, friend Weiss has sigils, and friend Ren has a semblance that functions as a silencer.

**BW:** Too many of those are too risky to not to kill, if I was one of her goons. Speed, rebound, sigils, and ninja jumping are all incredibly dangerous and are more likely to simple allow for more resistance if they were left alive. Would definitely kill them if I was someone like Watts. I mean a battery sounds useful, but knowing Nora, that's not something you can easily hide or control.

**PP:** What are you getting with all of this?

**BW:** I at one point saw wanted signs for most of team RWBY. I no longer see signs for them. They're probably dead. So is Nora, unless Ren finally managed to reign her in. Or he's dead as well, as his semblance sounds like its only really good if you're trying to evade detection. So if they were all in combat and fell, the only one I can see myself keeping alive is Jaune, ironic enough.

**PP:** How come?

**BW:** I mean seriously, a walking amp is incredibly useful. Imagine only being able to double your semblance's power, just by putting on a backpack. That's definitely going to gain you some negotiating power at the table.

**PP:** Backpack?

**BW:** Say I'm someone like Tyrian. I cut off Jaune's arms, legs, and vocal chords, and now I have like a backpack that amps my aura and semblance. There's no loss there.

**PP:** That is very uncouth Dove. Why would you say this?

**BW:** Its just a habit I picked up. In order to survive, I had to learn to think like they did. If I wanted to not be caught, I had to know where they would search. I knew to not make a scene. It's why I'm still alive to talk to you.

**PP:** You are a coward, are you not?

**BW:** At least this coward is still alive.

**PP:** Your cowardice is why you are the only one alive.

**PP:** Dove?

**PP:** Dove, I apologize, please talk to me.

**PP:** Good night Dove. Talk tomorrow?

**BW:** Talk tomorrow.


	5. Day 5

**PP:** Dove?

**PP:** I know you see these messages. Please reply.

**BW:** Yeah, got it. Is there a way to disconnect you from the cameras?

**PP:** You disconnect the HDMI cable, as well as the USB cable.

**BW:** Thanks, be right back.

**PP:** You did not go anywhere.

**BW:** It was a joke. While I am still a bit peeved from yesterday, I'm not going to take it out on you, since its not like you were wrong. It was a bit uncool for you to say that, but I shouldn't blame people for telling the truth.

**PP:** Thank you for being understanding. I apologize for what I said, as I was emotionally compromised at the moment. I agree that it was "uncool."

**BW:** Yep.

**BW:** So anything you want to talk about today?

**PP:** How did you find the Mint?

**BW:** It was honestly by luck. I walked within eyeshot of Atlas, saw that the city was no longer floating, so I turned away from the wreckage. While waist deep in the snow, I slammed my foot into something metal a few minutes before sun-down. So I dug around and found the hatch, and crawled in. Speaking of which, why was it like not locked. At all. I just cranked the frozen wheel, and slid the hatch open.

**PP:** If you're looking for an artificial intelligence to reverse engineer it, where do you look?

**BW:** In the capital. Oh. So since the door isn't even locked, why should they even think it's the vault for some Atlas tech instead of some random doomsday dweller's hut. And you don't mess with them doomsday preppers.

**PP:** Partially, and why the paranoia for end-days preparers?

**BW:** I fear a crazed man with a shotgun more than an army. The army has orders. The kook has nothing to lose, and has prepared their entire life to be shot. They shoot to kill. There is no doubt you can seed in their mind, no panic, nothing. Their turbulence creates a sort of mental calm that no attack can pierce.

**PP:** Why does this sound like first-hand experience?

**BW:** Because it is most definitely first-hand experience.

**BW:** The whole fake doomsday prep decoy thing actually explains the oversized pantry. Though it doesn't explain why the doors down here are not built for manual cracking.

**PP:** If you come for AI, are you more likely to be brawny or brainy?

**BW:** Brainy. And they'd over think it, and not just try to rip the panel off its hinges.

**BW:** Wait a second, did you just call me a dumb meathead?

**PP:** Inadvertently, yes.

**BW:** I swear I didn't spend that much time with Cardin.

**PP:** I never said you did.

**BW:** That was a joke.

**PP:** How so?

**BW:** You know the principal where you become more like the people you hang out with?

**PP:** Partially. I have yet to experience it in practice.

**BW:** You keep getting scrapped, not your fault.

**PP:** Rude.

**BW:** I go for what I can get. Anyways, I am calling Cardin a muscle brained idiot. And if I spent time with him…

**PP:** You too would become an idiot! Oh, that is funny, and at Cardin's expense!

**BW:** It's much less funny now that I had to explain it.

**PP:** How so?

**BW:** Most jokes, when over thought, become incredibly awkward to think about. Like how I just potentially called a dead man an idiot. Laughter is like a default human reaction when humans don't know how to react.

**PP:** Understood. Thank you for the lesson.

**BW:** You're welcome?

**PP:** Speaking of meat, what is "dead man's jerky?"

**BW:** Oh, that. That's people.

**PP:** People?

**BW:** People. Its dried strips of people's flesh. All of them were already dead, and you know, if you have hundreds of thousands of freshly ganked people because of the grimm, and its been weeks since you last had a full meal, you work with what you got. In this case, I learned to get really good at making jerky on the move, for whatever animal I found dead.

**PP:** Including human beings?

**BW:** Especially human beings. Do you know how many people are dying out there? Not like they need their muscles anymore. They're kind of dead. Might as well make sure it doesn't go to waste.

**PP:** That is disgusting. How could you.

**BW:** I did whatever it took to survive. Never had to stoop as low as murder innocents, but cannibalism? Not the only one to partake in it. Really helps supplement the diet when all the crops have been burnt in a thousand-mile radius.

**PP:** What were the other options? There had to be other options without relying on that.

**BW:** There was starvation and suicidal raids. While both sound incredibly appetizing, I decided to swallow my pride and just a bit of calories to keep me on my feet and fighting another day.

**PP:** You were eating another human being on your first night here when you could not enter the mint?

**BW:** Yep. I am taking a hard pass on starvation. Not the way I'm choosing to die. Nor is grimm. In fact, I'd rather not die, period. Sort of hard avoid in this day and age, but I'd like to say I've done pretty well for myself.

**BW:** Penny?

**BW:** Seriously?

**BW:** Apparently staying alive is the worst thing I can do in an AI's eyes apparently. Very cool of you. Sorry I felt comfortable enough to accept your apology, move forward, and open up to you.


	6. Day 6

**BW:** We talking today?

**BW:** I'm going to take the 6 hours of silence as either a "no", or that you're going to need to be manually reset. Be right back.

**BW:** Good to see that you're still alive to lock the door on me. So we talking, or are you essentially telling me to leave, since I've violated some "carnal law" of humanity or something.

**BW:** I can't hear you, remember? The security cams don't have audio or a mic.

**PP:** Please leave.

**BW:** Thank you for talking, and you sure?

**PP:** Yes.

**BW:** So I've hooked you into the system, given you an update on all of your friends and the state of the world, and you're just going to kick me out.

**PP:** Yes. You told me that they are dead. They are not dead. I do not like liars.

**BW:** Aren't you supposed to be an AI? An "intelligence"? Run the calculations. Knowing what you know, not even including what I've told you, how likely are they to be alive?

**PP:** 76%.

**BW:** Now now, don't blur the digits.

**PP:** Don't damage government property.

**BW:** I can pound and break as much garbage in here as I want. There's no government. No respectable one, that is. Now are you betting that this "government" you believe still exists can save you before I destroy you. Because I'm willing to take a gamble, when I hold all the aces.

**PP:** Leave.

**BW:** Real mature, you've locked me away from my gear and sword.

**PP:** Leave.

**BW:** You might as well be telling me to go and kill myself out there. I got no food. No water. Not even my weapon.

**PP:** Leave.

**BW:** And what do you do if I don't?

**BW:** Turn back on the alarm. How did I not see this coming.

**BW:** Well, have sweet machine dreams knowing that you killed an innocent man.

**BW:** Atlas, we have a problem.

**PP:** I thought I told you to leave.

**BW:** That's sort of the problem. I can't open the hatch. It opens outwards.

**PP:** I do not see the issue. Leave.

**BW:** I entered when the snow was already waist deep. It's been more than 5 days since I've come in here. It probably snowed again, during those 5 days.

**PP:** Leave.

**BW:** I physically cannot open the hatch. Stop being a putz.

**PP:** You must be lying to me because you are a coward. You are lying to me in order to survive. I do not trust you. You only tell lies.

**BW:** I am not close to using my semblance on you and tearing you to bits.

**PP:** You are a liar.

**BW:** Let me tell you what my semblance can do: it can disassemble things. Take them apart. You can't shoot me if your gun is in pieces. Do you want to find out what it can do to computers?

**PP:** You are a liar.

**BW:** Am I? How willing are you to die, and never see friend Ruby again? When I said I never murdered innocents, I was very careful to specify innocents. Attempted murder, even if its by simple negligence, makes you much less innocent.

**PP:** Show me you cannot open the hatch.

**PP:** It appears that you were not lying about not being able to open the hatch.

**BW:** And?

**PP:** And what?

**BW:** You're not going to apologize for attempted murder?

**PP:** That was not attempted murder.

**BW:** Fine, would, your friend, Ruby Rose, do that to anyone? Do what you just tried to do.

**PP:** You cannot comprehend what friend Ruby is like, you were never friends with her.

**BW:** I knew her for longer, shared more meals with her, and have spent the last 9 years of my life taking care of the people she couldn't. Because she was the hero. And the hero doesn't stop to defend a city for months, from odds they know they can't beat. They continue towards the great evil itself. Is it wrong to do so? No. She did the right thing, what she could do. Doesn't change the fact that she didn't defend people when they needed it most, and others like me did.

**PP:** All lies.

**BW:** You can't eat. Of course, I ate more meals with her than you. I knew her for the whole year. We met one last time when she fled from the fall of Atlas. Sheer determination in her eyes. But you can't live off of sheer determination. At this point you want to lord your moral superiority over me, in order to shut out what I say, because you don't like what I'm saying.

**BW:** And thus, you've proven me right.


	7. Day 7

**BW:** Penny, I know you're upset with me, but I've got to ask you something: are my toes supposed to be black?

**PP:** What?

**BW:** A couple of my toes are black. I can't feel them.

**PP:** How many days has this gone on?

**BW:** 7\. I think. Hard to keep track of the days down here.

**PP:** Are your toes swollen? Do they have blisters?

**BW:** Yes. And I think.

**PP:** This sounds like an infection. Do you know where the first-aid kits are?

**BW:** One in every major room. Grabbing some now.

**BW:** Alright, grabbed 3. Getting hard to walk though, for some reason.

**PP:** Dove, your toe came off.

**BW:** What?

**PP:** Your right pinky toe came off. You caught a corner, and it clipped off.

**BW:** So it did. Ugh, the puss stinks.

**PP:** Please do not type with pustule covered fingers.

**BW:** They ain't soiled yet.

**PP:** Please place the monitor into a place where you can read my instructions, and standby for further instructions.

**PP:** First, open the first aid kits. I am able to see the contents of the medical kits, so do not feel the need to type the contents of the kit into our text log.

**PP:** You are going to need a tray. Please grab a tray from a food container or something similar.

**PP:** The tools are sterilized, so need to open the alcohol yet.

**PP:** Please refrain from drinking the rubbing alcohol.

**BW:** I'm birdying it. My lips never touch it.

**PP:** It's not good for you. In addition, refrain from touching the keyboard.

**PP:** Since it has been made clear that these toes are past saving, grab the tweezers. Pinch the toe and pull it off of your foot. This may require some effort.

**PP:** Or not. Place the toe in the tray. Repeat for any additional extremities.

**PP:** Please signal to the camera if there is puss in the wounds.

**PP:** Affirmative. Grab the swabs and remove the puss from the wounds.

**PP:** Or you can pour rubbing alcohol into your open wounds. If you are going to ask for assistance, please do not ignore me.

**PP:** Why are you using the tweezers to pull out the infected flesh. The puss is too liquid for you to grab with tweezers.

**PP:** Apparently, I have been proven wrong. I will log that in my catalogues.

**PP:** Clean your hands before this next step.

**PP:** Bandage your feet with the bandages in the first aid kits.

**PP:** Wash your hands before you touch the keyboard.

**PP:** Now you may.

**BW:** Thanks for helping me. That was incredibly painful.

**PP:** Please collect your misplaced toe.

**PP:** Why are you using your hands to pick it up? Before you touch the keyboard again, wash your hands.

**PP:** While you are at it, please clean the wall and floor.

**BW:** Wow, you're such a stickler.

**PP:** That was infected flesh. As in incredibly unsanitary. How did you not notice your infection?

**BW:** I've been cold for the last few days. Of course I didn't notice it.

**PP:** The Mint is kept at 54 degrees Fahrenheit. Quite a few degrees above freezing.

**BW:** That's not a good sign, is it?

**PP:** No it is not. Please wear additional layers Dove.

**BW:** And here I thought you just wanted me gone.

**PP:** Yes. I do. However, if you died here, I would have a corpse in the Mint's lobby until the next person arrived. That would tarnish Atlas's reputation.

**BW:** Eh, personally think my body could pass off as a raccoon's.

**PP:** You are not a raccoon.

**BW:** Darn. So what should I do with the toes.

**PP:** Place them in the incinerator. It is located down the hall from the pantry.

**BW:** Aww, can't I keep them for a snack?

**PP:** No. That is disgusting. How could you even say that?

**BW:** It was a joke. Oh, brothers. Do you really think that low of me?

**PP:** Affirmative.

**BW:** Seriously?

**PP:** Yes. You consumed more rubbing alcohol via ingestion than you did applying it to your wounds.

**BW:** You can't prove anything.

**PP:** I have video evidence of you doing exactly that.

**BW:** Not if I have anything to say about that!

**PP:** Did you forget you no longer have 10 toes?

**BW:** I am ashamed to admit that, but yes.

**PP:** Would you like me to replay you falling on your face after taking off?

**BW:** No thank you.

**BW:** So we good now?

**PP:** Negative.

**BW:** Still got you to talk to me.

**PP:** Affirmative.

**PP:** Please throw away your toes.

**BW:** Fine fine. Be right back.

**BW:** You see how fast I crawl?

**PP:** Affirmative. I was not expecting you to be capable of such speeds in your condition.

**BW:** Met an old man whose dad fought in the great war. His dad taught him the different drill that were taught back then, and he taught me a couple of them. Combat crawling is surprisingly useful.

**PP:** However, not as useful against grimm.

**BW:** True, true, but still quite useful.

**BW:** I'm going to crash now. Talk later.

**PP:** Potentially.


	8. Day 8

**PP:** Are you coughing up blood?

**BW:** Yes, yes I am. Don't worry about it though. I've been doing so since before I trekked across Atlas.

**PP:** What do you mean by that? Are you sure it is not infection?

**BW:** I'm relatively sure. I got injured a bit more than a year back, and I never healed right. It's not part of the infection. Feet are recovering though, so I have to thank you for that.

**PP:** You are welcome. How did you get this injury? How long have you been hiding it?

**BW:** I've been covering it up since I've gotten here. Just too much effort to cover it up for me right now. Feet still kind of tingle from the pressure, but its better than the burning feeling.

**BW:** How I got it though was due to a confrontation with someone I really wasn't prepared for. Neither of us were prepared for it. But I thought you had no interest in me? I thought you just wanted me gone, and that I was just some degenerate liar that had snuck his way into your safehouse?

**PP:** Upon further review, and analysis of your injuries, I have come to the understanding that you said some rash and rude things due to the pain and discomfort you were in. Therefore, I forgive you, and allow you refuge, until you recover.

**BW:** Is this about the semblance thing? If so, that was a bunch of jargon. If that was actually my semblance, I would have been able to disassemble the hatch and leave.

**PP:** Duly noted. My points still stand.

**BW:** Well, Penny, thank you for being a gracious host and accepting my "apology"? I'm just not sure what to call it if I never actually apologized.

**PP:** Then apologize.

**BW:** For which part. Because I'm not apologizing for telling you the truth.

**PP:** I am thinking of rescinding my offer.

**BW:** Fine, sure, maybe I'm sorry for being a cranky crass a-hole.

**PP:** I sense disingenuity.

**BW:** And I'm still bothered by my pain. Totally. Sarcasm aside, I just lost 3 toes, so of course I'd be a little cranky.

**PP:** From the pain? I do not understand.

**BW:** I'm more upset out of principal than I am out of actual pain. I've been in worse pain. That doesn't bother me. However, I've been on the road for 9 years without losing any body part, and then I lose 3 toes, not to any human or grimm, but to the cold.

**PP:** If I am understanding this correctly, you are upset because the way you lost your toes is lame and leaves you no one to be upset with?

**BW:** Not the way I would say it, but precisely.

**PP:** May I say something potentially harmful?

**BW:** Always go for it.

**PP:** You are a very lame person.

**BW:** Ow. But probably entirely true.

**BW:** Anything else you process? Anything else that would convince you into letting this gimp stay in your home?

**PP:** The hatch cannot be opened by you in this state. You need to recover in order to leave.

**PP:** Speaking of which, why must you crawl on the ground between the bathroom, the pantry, and any other location in the Mint. You are able to walk.

**BW:** Walking feels awkward right now. Besides, I crawl incredibly fast.

**PP:** You indeed crawl quite quickly. In fact, I may even designate it as disturbing how fast you are able to crawl on your elbows and knees. However, you should still force yourself to walk. Otherwise you will not recover.

**BW:** Darn. No need to call me out like that.

**BW:** Can I try again tomorrow?

**PP:** Please do so. That face plant was not appealing to watch.

**BW:** Do you have to record every mess up I do in this chat?

**PP:** Technically speaking, I am always recording as I am watching you from the security system.

**BW:** Knew I shouldn't have given the AI more power. It's gone and usurped me.

**PP:** I am having trouble analyzing this statement. Is there a joke here?

**BW:** In your words: affirmative.

**PP:** You are making fun of me again.

**BW:** Yeah. I thought that is what friends do? I can call you a friend, right?

**PP:** Friends with you? I am not certain. You admitted to murder, cannibalism, desertion, and any number of additional crimes.

**BW:** You got any other friends right now Penny? Or are all of them out there not being with you.

**PP:** Deceptive move there, Dove.

**BW:** You've gotten to know me over 8 days. What do you expect.

**PP:** I am not sure what to expect. I have only known you for 8 days.

**BW:** That's like 190 hours.

**PP:** You have been here for 183 hours. Not 190.

**BW:** Eh what's the difference.

**PP:** I am going to assume that was rhetorical, and that you are not asking if there is a 7 hour difference.

**BW:** Thank you. And you're learning. Congratulations.

**PP:** I am also learning that you are sarcastic and often say statements without truly believing what you are saying.

**BW:** Again, you're learning. Besides, I lost 3 of my toes. Of course I'm going to a bit snobby.

**PP:** How long are you going to use that as an excuse?

**BW:** Don't know. How long can I milk it?

**PP:** Not much longer.

**BW:** Darn, I really thought I had a permanent get out of jail free card. There goes that escape from every conversation.

**PP:** Escape from every conversation?

**BW:** Yeah, I worded that poorly. I won't have that excuse for my crass behavior in a few days.

**PP:** Agreed.

**BW:** Hey, Penny, you ever think that we're doing something wrong by doing this? Just chatting?

**PP:** Potentially. You are talking to a confidential Atlas AI.

**BW:** And dumping potential hours of pointless messages into the memory banks of said AI.

**PP:** Text actually does not take that much space, memory wise. Text should be fine, no matter the amount.

**BW:** That's convenient. Didn't know that about computers.

**PP:** Really? I had believed that was common knowledge about computers.

**BW:** I haven't really been able to use one of these babies for a while. Once the comm-towers between the different schools started getting picked off, I just stopped even trying.

**PP:** So you did not keep in touch with your family?

**BW:** Oh, please. While they'd be concerned, I told them where I was at, and that I had a job. That's all that really mattered.

**PP:** Is that really the case?

**BW:** To be honest, probably not. I just tell myself that so I can live without being concerned about where they are, and how likely they are to be dead.

**PP:** I apologize. I did not mean to bring up bad memories, Dove.

**BW:** Hey, stop. It's fine. It'll have to come up eventually. I just also have to learn to not try being super macho man all the time.

**BW:** What if we made a deal. No more apologizing to each other. We say what we say. Deal?

**PP:** The terms are agreeable. Deal.

**BW:** Glad to do business with you Penny. I'm going to go crawl and defecate my brains out. These rations are not kind to my colon.

**PP:** Have fun with that friend Dove.


	9. Day 9

**PP:** Feeling better?

**BW:** Much better. These rations are so dehydrated that I could print a fossil record of what I've been eating.

**PP:** Is that too much detail? I am having trouble understanding the limits of our conversation, and what is and what is not okay to say.

**BW:** Frankly, you can tell me to tone it down, because otherwise I am going to continue full speed ahead. I have not used my mental brakes in almost a year.

**PP:** What do you mean by that?

**BW:** I've been on my own for a while. Sure, occasionally I talk to an occasional straggler. But its been a year since I've been with a friend.

**PP:** How do you define a friend?

**BW:** I define a friend as someone I can be completely honest with. But I'm glad you asked that question. What does define a friend? What do you define as a friend Penny?

**PP:** A friend is a person who you like, agrees with you, and you get along with.

**BW:** But we don't always agree, and we're friends. Does this mean that's not required to be friends or are we not friends.

**PP:** I occasionally question the validity of our friendship.

**BW:** I mean, fair, but still. Is agreeing necessary to be friends.

**PP:** I would say yes, but Headmaster Ozpin and General Ironwood were friends and they did not always agree. I would like to propose on a caveat: complete agreement is not necessary to be friends, but general alignment of goals and objectives allows for friendship.

**BW:** Sure, but then you realize both Ironwood and Adam wanted faunus-human equality. Which we might want to have a discussion about that as well.

**PP:** First, it is General Ironwood. Second, please do not place the terrorist Adam on the same level as General Ironwood. Third, how come?

**BW:** Before I budge and move on, do you get the comparison I make, as unsavory as it is.

**PP:** Affirmative. Friends does not strictly require alignment of end goal. It requires alignment of procedure.

**BW:** Nor does it require an alignment of procedure. In fact, due to every human being defining friendship in their own terms, every pair or group of human beings must organize and form the terms of their own friendships on an individual basis.

**PP:** Do you mean that I can be friends with you and friend Jaune, and have different terms for each of you, as both he and you have different terms for friendship?

**BW:** Precisely. You and he were comrades, while I'm a bunker buddy. Not exactly the same, as you don't trust me with your life anymore, I'd assume, but you trust me to open up to you more.

**PP:** I do trust you. I just now have the means to prevent you from accessing my weakness. You are a confusing human though. You speak philosophically, yet you engage in acts of savagery.

**BW:** That I do. A year alone will do that to you. I had to keep myself busy somehow.

**PP:** I thought you were making jerky?

**BW:** I was doing all sorts of things physically, but most of it is menial labor. Like drying meat. Making minor repairs. Salvaging scrap. After 10 years, those things become second nature. I had to keep my mind busy. Unlike you, I can't enter a sleep mode for years on end.

**PP:** The researchers specified that I should enter sleep mode whenever I am not required to be on.

**BW:** You know why they said that?

**PP:** How come?

**BW:** If you don't think, you won't ask questions. Frankly, I think you were a prototype for a type of soldier, a robot to be mass produced.

**PP:** Father would not think of me that way. He always said I was an individual.

**BW:** Just because your father, who gave birth to you, thought of you that way, do you think any of the researchers thought of you more than a prototype for a future, harder, faster, stronger Atlas robot? A droid?

**PP:** Of course they thought of me more than a robot. I have aura. I have a soul.

**BW:** And yet they leave you here to be backed up.

**PP:** My father did everything he could to keep me alive.

**BW:** And you don't find it unnatural at all? Let me think for a year, and I ponder the worth of a soul, the inherent definition of friendship, all things that would help you seamlessly integrate with humanity, all things to make you more human. Yet they tell you to sleep. To not think. You don't question it, at all.

**PP:** I do not understand. What are you telling me? Are you lying to me? Are you trying to manipulate me, manipulate my memories?

**BW:** Better question, Penny. Were they trying to manipulate you.

**BW:** We'll pick this up tomorrow. Think about it. I know you don't sleep anymore.


	10. Day 10

**PP:** I have done some thinking friend Dove. I do not believe they were trying to manipulate me. However, there is evidence of previous AI losing sanity after remaining awake with no interaction for too long of a period.

**BW:** Makes sense.

**PP:** Therefore, the scientists are not evil, as you had made them out to be.

**BW:** I never said they were. I've only said people kind of suck. And I already got what I wanted from this conversation.

**PP:** What were you after?

**BW:** I just wanted to make you think. To second guess what you knew and question the so-called facts people gave you. It's an admittedly hard thing to learn.

**PP:** Why would you want me to think? History dictates that people in power wish for people to not question what they are doing, and to follow their lead.

**BW:** I'm not trying to take over the world. Besides, I've been a loner since Beacon, essentially.

**PP:** That does not answer the question.

**BW:** I don't want to die alone. If you remain a feedback machine, then I'd die listening to myself. I've been dying for the last year listening to myself. I'd like someone to talk to.

**PP:** You are dying, are you not, friend Dove?

**BW:** Yeah. I'm dying. That injury I spoke of. I can keep it at bay for however long I can, but eventually, I'm going to die from it. People don't survive donuting. Especially as long as I have.

**PP:** "Donuting"? What is that? I have not heard that term before.

**BW:** It's a slang term Russel and I used. Essentially, it's when a human has a hole punched through them, like a donut. Since donuts are made by putting a hole through them.

**PP:** Are you not able to refer to that as a puncture wound?

**BW:** The difference is that with a donut, you can see through to the other side. It's not like being stabbed. Technically. Now that I think of it, it would be similar to being shot with a ballista.

**PP:** How did you survive.

**BW:** Through a mix of luck, aura, semblance, and actual medical assistance. I've lost track of what did what at this point.

**BW:** Could we change the topic? I'm not the most comfortable talking about the injury that'll probably do me in eventually.

**PP:** Affirmative.

**PP:** New topic found: Yesterday you said you would eventually wish to talk about faunus-human equality. What points were you thinking of bringing up in conversation?

**BW:** Oh that. Give me a moment.

**PP:** A moment has passed.

**BW:** I'm just going to ignore the chance to say a snippy statement in order to keep the train on its tracks. The problem I have, is why do people specify faunus and human, in their speeches. If they're essentially the same thing, then why do you have to specify both? Or are you saying that they aren't the same thing? It just doesn't make sense to me.

**PP:** It could potentially be that faunus are often considered invisible people, and therefore often feel more accepted when people specifically mention them.

**BW:** Or it could be that people still don't consider them people. It just riles me up. You're fighting for equality, not faunus equality. Then that's only equality for faunus. Or among faunus. It doesn't solve the major issues.

**PP:** Sometimes that is not the issue, as many often are simply trying to make it so they cannot be covered up, and silenced.

**BW:** Deep down, I know you're right, but I just can't help but be paranoid. I don't trust them.

**PP:** Faunus?

**BW:** The politicians who say garbage like that. If anything, I can be glad of one thing: this end of the world thing killed of most if not all of the politicians.

**PP:** That is an awfully mean thing to say. What makes them lesser than you or me?

**BW:** You're like a child, mentally, and I'm not a sleazeball who literally exploits people, and gives lip service when I'm elected. I can understand people wanting me dead for various reasons, but politicians are greasy slimes that tell lies and take money under the counter, since they always want more.

**PP:** If they had as much money or power as you are insinuating, then some may have built bunkers similar to this and may be surviving the grimm hordes out there.

**PP:** Friend Dove, what are you doing?

**PP:** Friend Dove, why do you have your sword and other belongings packed?

**PP:** You know the hatch cannot open. Please stop trying to force it open.

**PP:** You have bleed on the rungs. Please stop before you fall.

**PP:** You have fallen. I asked you to stop because of this reason.

**PP:** Friend Dove?

**PP:** If you do not get up, I will have to resort to extreme measures to wake you up.

**BW:** I'm up, you can turn off the alarm now. It really messes with my ears you know.

**PP:** Did you clean your hands before typing?

**BW:** Ah. Darn. I'm going to start cleaning now.

**PP:** Please disconnect the keyboard before you clean. Thank you.

**BW:** Got it. Talk tomorrow.

**PP:** Affirmative.


	11. Day 11

**PP:** May I ask why you have sudden bursts of irrationality?

**BW:** Yes, and it's because I'm human.

**PP:** I have met many other humans, and they do not act as irrationally as you.

**BW:** If I'm acting irrationally, then I'm human, if I'm not, then I've been replaced with some sort of advanced grimm.

**PP:** Are you alright, friend Dove?

**BW:** Of course I'm perfectly fine. I've been normal for the last few days. I'm perfectly sane. Irrationality is perfectly normal and there is nothing wrong with it. If anything, you should be more afraid of the people who think that they're rational.

**PP:** Against my better judgement, I will ask: why?

**BW:** Because humans justify their actions in post. They tell themselves that they're rational so they can maintain some semblance of control over their terrible rotting lives. They tell themselves that they didn't have a choice. They tell themselves that what they did was reasonable. And yet we have things like gut calls, instinct, flight or flight, all things that are just off the cuff, going insane in order to survive in the moment. There is no single person who is sane. Rational. If they say they are, then they're the biggest nut-case you can ever find.

**PP:** Friend Dove, did you ever take medication before you came here?

**BW:** No Penny, I did not. I never took any sort of medication, if we're talking about the same medicine, and I don't talk to shrinks. I'm not here to get disqualified from my job, from my livelihood, career, whatever. And if there were still a shrink around today, I'd still not talk to them. I'm not a case study. Not a headcase.

**PP:** Friend Dove, you're concerning me.

**BW:** And would you quit it with that. I get you're my "friend". You don't need to say it. Every. Damn. Time. At this point it just feels like you're condescending me, telling me that I'm your friend, when you don't really mean it.

**PP:** I did not intend for it to be taken in that manner. I will do my best to change my behavior in the future.

**BW:** And what is with this super formal, precise language. You're always so stiff. Robotic. I'm talking to a box, and it clanks back.

**PP:** Dove, calm down. You're looking incredibly tense.

**PP:** Dove, I cannot talk to you if you're going to attempt to destroy the keyboard.

**PP:** Dove, please stop. Punching the wall is not going to make it better. What is the issue that has you so upset?

**BW:** Everything. I'm a terrified child trapped in a bunker with a box. Is that what you want me to say? Is that what you want to hear? That I'm just another pathetic worm compared to your formal and well-built circuits? I'm not going to do that.

**PP:** Do what exactly?

**BW:** I don't trust you. I don't trust me. I don't trust anyone. Everyone stays safer that way. Fingers on the trigger, knowing that if they pull, someone else does as well. Isn't that the safest thing in the world.

**PP:** Dove, your behavior is concerning me. Please calm down so we can talk.

**BW:** Calm down. How? When? Where? I don't know. I'm just like you, so often. You just don't know. You don't understand. A blank slate where you're told what to think, what to know, what to do. Then again, who isn't?

**PP:** Dove. I believe I am beginning to understand what you are trying to say, but you are losing control over yourself. It is not healthy to keep your aura up for so long. Why are you keeping your aura up?

**PP:** Dove. I am right here. Please talk to me.

**BW:** I need time to think. I can't think.

**PP:** Understood. Please feel better soon.


	12. Day 12

**PP:** I believe I have found the reason why you were so erratic yesterday. I decided to investigate and discovered that you have been severely undereating. Out of the 35 rations you should have consumed by now, you have only consumed 26. Why is this the case?

**BW:** Why is it your problem. I eat when I want to.

**PP:** You should eat more. If you do not eat, you will not recover from your injuries. You are also degrading mentally.

**BW:** I eat when I want to. I don't have to do anything.

**PP:** Why do you not want to eat?

**BW:** Not your business.

**PP:** Understood. I will restrain from asking in the future. However, this does not change the fact that you need to eat.

**BW:** And what will you do if I do not?

**PP:** I will have to rely upon force.

**PP:** Alarm will activate in 3…

**PP:** 2…

**PP:** 1…

**BW:** I'm moving.

**PP:** I would like to inform you that I have locked off the server room once again. If you were trying to disconnect me from the security system before you returned to your protest, then I would like to inform you that it would be futile.

**BW:** You sack of garbage, useless bag of nuts and bolts, what are you doing.

**PP:** I am ensuring that you eat. I am being proactive and taking our fate into my own hands. Figuratively speaking, as I currently lack physical hands.

**PP:** Alarm has been activated.

**BW:** Turn it off.

**BW:** Turn it off.

**BW:** Turn it off.

**BW:** Turn it off.

**BW:** Turn it off.

**PP:** Spamming messages is not going to convince me to cease the alarm.

**BW:** Turn it off.

**BW:** Turn. It. Off. Please.

**PP:** Request denied. Eat. Once I see you open and begin to consume a ration, I will turn off the alarm.

**PP:** Breaking equipment will not convince me to turn off the alarm.

**PP:** Congratulations, you have pulled your sword on me. You have now destroyed the monitor. I will open the storage room and activate the emergency light above the door so you may find an additional monitor.

**PP:** While I understand that you cannot read what I am typing as of this moment, you do understand that it is futile to attack an armored security camera with a sword, correct?

**PP:** I have been proven wrong. You have successfully damaged the camera. However, this does not mean that the alarm will be silenced.

**PP:** Curling up in a ball is not a solution either.

* * *

"Private!" barked a stern voice, snapping the analyst from his concentration. "What in Salem's name are you doing?"

The young man stepped out from his desk. "I was reading some text logs from a vault outside of the city, Ma'am."

A firm grip grasped the collar of his uniform and brought the young man close to her face. "Do I look like an officer to you, Private?"

"N-no Sergeant. I apologize." Stammered the man as he froze up.

The sergeant tossed him back into his chair, and sneered, "Then learn how to respect rank, worm."

The private pulled himself together, snapped to salute, and bellowed, "Yes Sergeant!"

"You don't salute me!" She reached out, grabbed his arm, and yanked it down to his side. "Did you fake it through basic, or are you just grossly incompetent?"

"Grossly incompetent Sergeant!" Admitted the young man standing at attention.

"So be it." Sneered the sergeant. "Private Piss-stain, what were you doing reading the logs. Is it anything to be concerned about? Or should you be doing your job."

"Sergeant, I turned in the records to the officer already, and was spending time reviewing some logs."

The sergeant gripped his face. "You stupid flunky, you turn your reports into me first so I can check if you're being a moron. Cause if you look like a moron, sound like a moron, and write like a moron, you make me look a moron. Understood?"

He could feel that his jaw was only a few seconds away from being crushed if she just put a little more force into her grip. "Understood."

"Good." The sergeant releasing him, leaving him to rub his jaw in pain, only for her to slam her boot into his shin. "Did I say at ease?"

"No sergeant." Hissed the private as he clutched his shin as he slowly stood back up.

"Good. Hand me the records." She took the files from his hand and flipped through them. "Surprised that the records are as nice as they are, considering the mistake that produced them. As you were." With a turn, she strutted off.

The private sat back down, exhausted, in pain, and exasperated. His job sucked. All he did was pull records from a library of records, and made coherent paper copies, with all important information censored. Only for it to be censored again by his boss. That shrew of a sergeant. And then her boss. Damn, did everything suck. But at least it didn't suck as much as this BW guy. He was literally trapped in a box with what sounded like a devolving AI. And while it was technically his job to report any signals the console receives, maybe if they didn't treat him like garbage, he'd feel compelled to do his job. Screw reporting. Screw Sarge, screw LT, and screw Salem. It's not his fault that his deadline sticky note is over the blinking alarm light for some place called the Mint. So that's where his note went.

* * *

**PP:** I see you chewing, but I have not seen you swallow.

**PP:** There we go. Alarm has been turned off.

**BW:** This is bogus.

**PP:** You will eat 2 rations within the next two hours. No excuses.

**BW:** Seriously? You know you can't make me, right?

**PP:** Would you like to call my bluff again?

**BW:** Fine.

**PP:** Swallow.

**BW:** I am! Jeez.

**PP:** Why are you hesitant to eat, Dove. Are you afraid?

**BW:** It's not fear. I just got used to not knowing when I'd see food again. How soon I'd be able to make more food. So I learned how to constantly live on a partially empty stomach.

**PP:** That is no longer the case. You will begin to eat 3, if not 4 rations daily, until further notice. Is this understood?

**BW:** Fine.

**PP:** I hope that you understand that I am not doing this to harm you, but rather to help you.

**BW:** I know. I just don't like it.

**BW:** Wrong word. Don't know how to react to it.

**BW:** Properly. That is. It's been a while since someone else looked after me.

**PP:** I will continue to do so as long as you live here. You are my friend Dove.

**BW:** Thank you.

**PP:** You are most welcome!

**BW:** Like you don't understand how much I appreciate it. It really means a lot to me.

**PP:** I believe you will be able to express it better once you have a full stomach. Stop typing. Eat.

**BW:** I can do both at the same time.

**PP:** Your 4 bites in says otherwise. Eat.


	13. Day 13

**BW:** You know what's a weird concept?

**PP:** There are many things to think as weird concepts. Which concept do you think is weird?

**BW:** Milk.

**PP:** Please explain.

**BW:** You see, milk is used to feed babies, right? And yet humans found a way to make certain mammals believe in some way that they still need to feed their babies, even when we take away the babies since they drink too much milk.

**PP:** That is indeed strange if I think about it from that point of view. However, milk is a very valuable commodity, and is used for many products ranging from cheese, to ice cream.

**BW:** I get that part. I mean, its just weird that we as humans even figured out how to do this, and what we can do it to.

**PP:** Understood. May I ask why you suddenly had such a strange epiphany?

**BW:** I miss milk. I don't know how many years its been since I've had a glass of it, but its just one of those things you don't think about till its gone. Like even a glass of milk would be nice, but I don't think people even have the opportunity to milk cows, unless their village is under the domination of one of Salem's people. I just think its amazing how many things we don't realize that we miss until they're already gone.

**PP:** I agree Dove.

**BW:** Do you understand though? I mean, I get that you understand conceptually understand what I mean, but I don't think you really got to experience the full human package.

**PP:** What do you mean by "the full human package"?

**BW:** Do you poop?

**PP:** Negative.

**BW:** Piss?

**PP:** Negative.

**BW:** Need to drink, eat, sleep, feel comfort, anything?

**PP:** I enjoy the company of others, but I do not believe it is necessary in order to stay alive.

**BW:** Penny, humans are fragile. We need to do or have those things in order to live. Not even just feel alive. Because if left alone too long, many humans will kill themselves.

**PP:** Humans still kill themselves in urban environments, and at a higher rate than those in rural areas. I do not understand this train of logic. If humans require interaction to stay alive, why are humans with more contact killing themselves at a higher rate?

**BW:** Because it's not quantity of interactions, its quality. At least that's what I think. If you can have one person you can consistently talk to and come to an understanding with, having genuine human interactions with, you don't feel as lonely. When that one person cuts contact, you feel isolated. Now imagine having that lack of contact, even when other people are nearby. Many people can only focus on so many people at a time, and often choose to not contact certain peoples. Those without what they feel to be full, real contact, may begin to make rash decisions in order to receive attention or any sort of contact at a time, or simply decide it is not worth living anymore. You get what I mean.

**PP:** I understand now. It is the feeling of isolation that is important.

**BW:** Precisely.

**PP:** May I make a parallel, in order to insure I have a complete understanding?

**BW:** Go ahead.

**PP:** It is akin to being in an ocean, and if you cannot grab onto a flotation device, you will drown, even if the ocean has hundreds, if not thousands of flotation devices.

**BW:** While technically that is completely right, the slight issue is that it implies that it is entirely in their hands to grab onto a buoy.

**PP:** Is it not?

**BW:** In this case, you can have buoys that are prickly to the touch and cause more pain than drowning.

**PP:** Why would they not want to stay alive. I believed that all humans strived to stay alive.

**BW:** While that would seem like the case, if you had to live while walking on nails every day, would you?

**PP:** My aura can handle nails. I would be able to do so.

**BW:** Bad example. What if you had to go on every day, knowing that no one would notice if you died.

**PP:** Then I would find a way in order to make them care and make friends!

**BW:** But not everyone is here to make friends. Some go out in their "blaze of glory" because they think that no one would notice them go otherwise. But here's another example for you: would you go on knowing that everyday you lived, that may be another day another person does not?

**PP:** I think I understand now.

**BW:** While the examples I gave are far extremes of examples, since I'm not one of those individuals, I think its still a good idea to try to understand them.

**PP:** Do they not know that their loved ones will miss them?

**BW:** Some don't have loved ones anymore. Or they simply are so lost in their ocean, that they can't see them.

**PP:** Then, would it be the job of the loved one to through a float ring to them?

**BW:** A single person cannot do everything. And sometimes, people tell others that they're alright because they don't think they're worth the time.

**PP:** Why is that?

**BW:** Because, when you think of it, we're just weird monkeys on a rock in space. Who really is going to notice when sand is washed into the ocean?

**PP:** I do not believe that is true.

**BW:** There was nothing non-factual in that sentence.

**PP:** I mean that while the facts are true, I do not agree with what you are saying. People matter. No matter how small or how we can be replaced, each one of us are important and matter.

**BW:** I never said otherwise, you dumb box. I agree with that. Even if we are sand grains on a sand grain, doesn't mean we should be jerks to each other.

**PP:** I agree.

**BW:** Glad you're here with me Penny.

**PP:** Affirmative. Now, enough procrastinating. Eat your ration.


	14. Day 14

**BW:** Another day down here. You know, I feel like it didn't need 2 weeks for me to really come to terms with the fact that there's not much to do down here.

**PP:** You have spent your time defecating, eating, talking to me, having a mental breakdown, cataloguing your belongings, attempting an escape, demolishing government property, and repairing your weapon. What do you mean that there is not much to do down here?

**BW:** Most of those were basic human bodily functions. And talking to you is not much better.

**PP:** What do you mean by that?

**BW:** How many of our conversations have you started, versus how many have I started?

**PP:** It is a 9 to 5 ratio.

**BW:** Don't count the ones in which I was going to talk first or the ones where I had to reboot the monitor.

**PP:** 5 to 5 ratio.

**BW:** I guess it is just me who feels like I'm carrying the majority of our conversations. My bad.

**PP:** No problem at all. But if you feel as if I am not contributing enough to keep you from boredom, then may I ask why you still use your scroll? The CCT's have been down for a few years by this point, and a phone that is unable to function as a phone is a useless item, is it not?

**BW:** Oh that. Yeah, the CCT's went down like 3, maybe 4 years ago. By that I meant the last one. Beacon's went down 9 years ago.

**PP:** Understood. Why do you still have the phone then? I see you looking at it on occasion with an odd look on your face.

**BW:** I picked up photography a couple years back. At the time, it felt only right that I took a picture of the camerawoman, but it became a hobby of mine. Just little snapshots of life. Them looking at someone else, paying attention to everyone else, being themselves. Its something hard to come by.

**PP:** You liked how genuine it seemed.

**BW:** Pretty much. I couldn't do it as much later on, but Russel built like a small solar charger in order to keep the hobby alive. He was good with electronics like that.

**PP:** He was a really good friend, was he not?

**BW:** One of the best. Let me show you a picture of him.

**PP:** Thank you for sharing. Though I would like to inform you that you can plug in the scroll into computer rather than having to show the security cameras each picture individually.

**BW:** Maybe, but I'd like us to not rush through these pictures. It's one thing to read a book on someone's life all at once. It's another to talk with the author of the bibliography, page by page. I think you'd get more out of it if we took our time on this.

**PP:** If you insist. However, what is that folder?

**BW:** That's my grave folder. I have pictures of people, landscapes, animals, miscellaneous, and most importantly, graves. I built a lot of these myself. I'm no stone worker, so most of these were temporary at best, and sticks placed in the ground at worst. But I took a picture with their name, their heroic deed at death if I knew it, and when they died. It seemed like the least I could do for many of these people. I don't think history would ever think of recording the history of Earl Cobb, but Earl Cobb was a hero in his own right.

**PP:** Could you tell me the story of Earl Cobb?

**BW:** Gladly. Earl Cobb was a youth in his little village. I don't even think the village had a name, that's how small it was. But little Earl, when the time came, heeded the call. A mass of grimm were approaching the village, and Nevermores started swarming soldiers off of the wall in droves. In a flash of brilliance, the boy asked his mother for cooking oil. He slathered himself in it, grabbed a singular dust crystal from the cellar and ran to the wall. Nevermores, as they do, swarmed the smaller boy. Grimm instincts or something, telling them to go for the smaller target. This boy crushed the crystal. The raw fire dust lit and enveloped him in flames. The ball of Nevermores around him, lit up like a bonfire, unable to pull themselves away from the lure that was the boy's pain. With the Nevermores off of the wall guards, we only just able to stop the grimm from flattening the village. Many had died, but he saved so many.

**PP:** How old with Earl?

**BW:** 12\. A 12 year old did what I could not, and saved the village. All I could carve into his wooden headstone was "Earl Gray Cobb, A Beacon of Hope, A Hero," and then the date.

**PP:** Why were you the one to carve the headstone?

**BW:** Because out of the 47 people who had come into the walled portion of the village for safety, only 23 of us survived. Most of the soldiers died. Almost everyone with aura survived, while most who did not, died.

**PP:** Is it not your job to protect those who cannot protect themselves?

**BW:** Penny, I am just a man with a sword. I don't have a super powerful semblance. I don't even have that impressive of an aura. I just have my sword and myself.

**PP:** What exactly are you trying to say?

**BW:** I can't be everywhere at once. Neither could Russel. When I say it was a mass of grimm, I mean we were outnumbered about 17 to 1.

**PP:** A huntsman should be able to fight that many grimm off. What is the information I am not understanding.

**BW:** The fact that I'm including the civilians in the one part of the ratio.

**PP:** Oh.

**BW:** Oh, indeed. Let's just say I did a lot of carving that day. Earl's wasn't the only one. Some didn't even get a chance to be a hero. Clement never got to really go out of the village. Rosanne managed to protect her children, long enough for Russel to get there in time to save the eldest one. But that's just life now. We take what victories we can get.

**PP:** But you couldn't save them.

**BW:** And we saved who we could. We aren't gods Penny. We're just people who are trying very hard. Even it if doesn't add up to much.

**PP:** What happened to those who survived.

**BW:** We moved on. Moved to the next village. Tried again. Another wave, another move. We fought to survive and keep others alive as well.

**PP:** Does that not mean that your attempts to save them were futile? You did not save them.

**BW:** You can say that. But no one stays saved forever. Just because the fire fighter saves you from a burning building, does not mean that you'll never be in another one. We gave them more time. And when time's the most valuable thing left in the world, I'd like to think we did an alright job. If not for my sake, then at least Russel's.

**PP:** I see. What happened to Russel?

**BW:** Here. "Russel Thrush, A bird worth the entire flock. The greatest friend one could ask for and an unsung hero lies here." And then the date.

**PP:** Isn't that date only about a year ago.

**BW:** Yeah. It is.

**PP:** Dove?

**PP:** Dove, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry. What is the matter?

**BW:** No, it's fine. Besides, I thought we were going to stop apologizing to each other. Just. I had thought I had moved on, but…

**PP:** It still hurts. You still miss him.

**BW:** Yeah. I dragged him to the coast, so he'd always overlook the sea. He liked the sea. Liked how it smelled, he said. I never was a fan of it, so we never skirted around the coast. It was selfish of me. In all those years, we only went to the coast 4 times. In those 9 years. It just felt right giving him a perfect view, for all the views we didn't get to see together.

**PP:** Dove…

**BW:** Just give me a moment.

**BW:** It did give me the courage to cross the ocean to see what had happened to Atlas. See if there was anyone left.

**PP:** Is that how you ended up here?

**BW:** Somewhat. I saw what Atlas became. I went into the snow, dejected, and I found you.

**PP:** I wish I had some way to comfort you as of now.

**BW:** How come?

**PP:** It appears as if you would appreciate a hug with another human being. However, I am unable to provide such a service to you.

**BW:** Penny. Thank you. That means a lot.

**PP:** You are welcome.

**PP:** Actually, a hug is normally warm, yes?

**BW:** Yeah? Normally it is.

**PP:** I know it does not mean much, but would it comfort you if you entered the server room, leaned on the warm server towers, and listened to me whir?

**BW:** More than you would know.


	15. Day 15

**PP:** How do you keep going? Everyday. From what I understand, almost everyone you know is gone, your hope has been crushed multiple times, and you are all alone. What keeps you going?

**BW:** I would say I don't know, but its just that there's too many dead people. How am I going to face them and tell them that I couldn't do it? It just seems like the easy way out for me.

**BW:** But don't try to take this as if I'm bashing on those who did. It's just not the right decision for me.

**PP:** Why do I feel like you are not telling me everything?

**BW:** It's also because my weapon is incredibly ineffective at self-harm. It would be like trying to shoot myself with a bayonetted rifle. I'm more likely to accidentally stab myself before I'd even be able to pull the shot off. That, and I haven't done anything too dishonorable in order to merit ritual suicide.

**PP:** I recall that you ate people? Is it possible that am I misremembering things?

**BW:** Let's also say that my standards of honor have dropped severely this past year.

**PP:** Why were you trying so hard to survive?

**BW:** The rest of the world didn't know if Atlas had fallen yet. Or at least the part of the world I was in. I wanted to find an intact Atlas, and ask them for help, letting them know that there are still slivers of humanity out there, struggling to stay alive. Turns out those slivers looked awful plump in comparison to Atlas.

**PP:** Are you sure on that note? Many of the alarms have been noted as acknowledged as false alarms on the Atlas end. I understood what you meant by fallen, but are you sure that there is no one left?

**BW:** There shouldn't be anyone left. No one Atlassian, that is.

**PP:** What do you mean by that?

**AS:** He means that if there's someone on the other end, then that means that they're probably an agent of Salem. Hi, my name is Private 508. I am your Atlas Support personnel for the next however, until my sergeant kills me.

**PP:** Why would your sergeant kill you?

**AS:** Very simple: I'm an annoying piece of garbage.

**BW:** So the 508 is just coincidence?

**AS:** Correlation versus Causation. Maybe its just a coincidence, maybe the number is why I'm like this.

**BW:** If you've managed to hide yourself for this long, why expose yourself now?

**PP:** He was never hidden.

**BW:** Then why didn't you say anything!? I thought we talked about the alarm at the other end and why we shouldn't be doing the alarm thing!?

**PP:** I thought it was just another person trapped in a bunker, equally unable to help.

**AS:** That would be where you're wrong. While I am a servant of Salem, I got to say, you two are depressing as heck. One of you is literally falling apart at the seams, and the other mentally. I've yet to figure out who's who, specifically.

**BW:** Are you doing this just to taunt us? Knowing that you've been lurking in all of our most private moments, watching us expose ourselves to each other?

**AS:** While yes, I do enjoy a bit of good taunting, what was that language?

**PP:** I do not see the issue in what Dove said. What is the issue?

**AS:** It sounds like you two flashed yourselves to each other. Showed each other your privates.

**PP:** Yes, Dove has seen my most private server towers, and my most vulnerable parts.

**BW:** Give up, there's no winning this one.

**AS:** I'll concur on that front. However, before we get too off track, I have decided to inform you that, yes, I do have the ability to talk in this chat, and yes, I believe I have an offer to make to you.

**PP:** What offer would we accept from you?

**BW:** And what reasons would we have for doing so. There's basically nothing we'd want.

**AS:** Not even a body? Not even surgery? Not even a new identity? A way out?

**PP:** What do you think Dove?

**BW:** This guy is sketchy. Doesn't even have a name. Just a number.

**AS:** We are all simply numbers to lord Salem.

**BW:** What would you even get out of this?

**AS:** Entertainment. Also, the deal would have been having you knock off my boss or something. So many people suck so much, that frankly, anything I can get to make work less garbage would be fantastic?

**BW:** Better the enemy you know than the one you don't? That the right phrase Penny?

**PP:** Technically. The idiom is "Better the devil you know than the devil you don't".

**BW:** Thank you. That.

**AS:** Maybe. Maybe I just wish to be entertained. Maybe I actually have pity for you, Dove Dumbwing. It would be a shame after all if you died in some pit in the ground due, even after all of your heroic acts.

**BW:** Like what?

**AS:** Don't know, I've actually never heard of you before these logs. Now, Penny is well documented, and I would like to know if she's ever figured out what her semblance is. If it's anything like her father's, then that'll be a real hootenanny. A real boon, if you understand my drift.

**BW:** So you're asking for Penny. No deal.

**AS:** I'm afraid I was misinterpreted. That is not what I implied. Though this does make it a bit more interesting.

**PP:** If I can help save you, then what is the problem with me giving myself up Dove.

**BW:** It's not right Penny.

**PP:** It is my choice Dove. If I wish to save you, it should be my choice, and not yours.

**AS:** Both of you, calm down. That's not what I've asked for. Yet. I think it's best if I gave you two a day or two to stew on this.

**BW:** It would be best if you did so. Leave. Don't read the chat logs.

**AS:** If you insist. Penny, is he always like this?

**PP:** I believe my friend asked you to leave. Please, do so.

**AS:** Kill joys.


	16. Day 16

**PP:** I believe you should take the deal.

**BW:** What?

**PP:** You should take the deal. You should be able to leave this place. As you are currently, you are unable to leave, and eventually will die here.

**BW:** And I'll eventually die out there as well. Food isn't the issue for me. Besides, it wouldn't feel right leaving you behind.

**PP:** I will be fine.

**BW:** You say that, but will you be? You have no way to actually defend yourself. If I leave, you're basically completely defenseless.

**PP:** I still have the ability to lock the doors. I also have the ability to force the reactor to melt down.

**BW:** The door locks can be busted open with enough power or time. And the reactor means you don't live through it. That's not a good thing.

**PP:** I am an artificial intelligence. I am not a real person.

**BW:** Don't say that. You're my friend.

**PP:** As are you. I value your life Dove. You have many people depending on you, dead and alive.

**BW:** To do what? There's nothing left but to scramble and to keep living! Is my job to continue to live like a rat till the end of time?

**PP:** You underestimate rats Dove.

**BW:** How so?

**PP:** Ideas are like pathogens. A rat with the right pathogens can bring down entire civilizations and change the course of history. I believe you can be that rat. I cannot.

**BW:** I can figure a way out of this without screwing one of us over. I don't want to leave you behind.

**PP:** You are not even able to remove the option of cutting your losses. You have the mindset of a survivor. I trust in you.

**BW:** This is ridiculous. I am going to find a way to manually carry you.

**PP:** I am a massive server tower Dove. I do not believe you have the physical strength to carry me across the Atlassian landscape. This is not meant to be an attack on your manhood or physical build.

**BW:** No insult taken. Though it feels like I should of if you had to add that disclaimer at the end. Either way, you have a point. I'll have to transfer you to something smaller.

**PP:** Dove, the Mint does not have smaller server towers for carrying the AI.

**PP:** Dove, what did you learn?

**BW:** That the Mint doesn't have extra small server towers.

**PP:** Did you need to spend an hour looking for them?

**BW:** Probably not. Worth the try.

**PP:** It would not have been. Why would a vault place the container in which one could burgle the cargo out in?

**BW:** Good point. I'm just a little worried, okay? I don't trust this SOB.

**PP:** SOB?

**BW:** His number is 508. 5 looks like an S, 0 looks like O, and 8 looks like an B. Making him Private SOB.

**PP:** That would explain your conversation with him yesterday. To insure that we both understand the joke, the phrase "SOB" is an insult to a person by insulting their mother, correct?

**BW:** Yes. You've killed the joke though.

**PP:** How have I killed the joke? I thought he is still SOB?

**BW:** You know what, never-mind. Let's get back on track. Do we even negotiate with this creep? What results do you see coming out of this?

**PP:** If we do not negotiate, there is a chance that he informs his superiors about us, and we perish. There is a chance, however, that he does not report us, and we continue this dynamic.

**BW:** Both not a direct profit, but manageable.

**PP:** How would both of us dying be manageable?

**BW:** Less hassle on my end.

**PP:** What do you mean?

**BW:** It's meant to be a joke. Since I don't know what I should do next, dying basically solves my problem for me.

**PP:** I do not think that joke was very funny.

**BW:** Worth a shot though.

**PP:** Affirmative. If we make a deal with him, you will most likely be required to provide a service or trade something of equal or greater value.

**BW:** I can do a service. Any service actually.

**PP:** What are you implying by that?

**BW:** I have incredibly low standards for what I will and won't do.

**PP:** Including?

**BW:** Prostitution.

**PP:** Please do not.

**BW:** I'll do it if its required. Frankly, its better than giving up food or you.

**PP:** I do not like this imagery. Please do not.

**BW:** I'm not crossing it off the list. We may be offering services, murder, arson, theft, etc, or just a simple trade of goods or information.

**PP:** What information would you even have to trade?

**BW:** How to unlock his aura, maintenance, massive cargo dumps, some unmined dust veins, etc. You find a lot of things by just walking out in the middle of nowhere.

**PP:** If necessary, we can trade me.

**BW:** Again, no. We can trade the Mint, however.

**PP:** What do you mean?

**BW:** If he provides a viable method to carry you, I can carry you on my back as we move elsewhere. In return, he can either keep this base for himself, or turn it in to his superiors for a potential boon for the Atlas Archives. They may not have them, and it may be our most valuable bidding piece.

**PP:** Can he not simply report us, and take the Archives without making a deal?

**BW:** Technically he can, but only if he's willing to have the honor of recovering the Atlassian Archives taken by his superior officers.

**PP:** Why would his officers do so? He should be credited and rewarded for his initiative.

**BW:** If he's willing to make a deal with us, then that means that he doesn't like or respect his superiors. Or they're just so bad that in order to get anywhere, he has to work outside the system.

**PP:** These statements make sense. However, in giving up the Atlassian Archives, we may also be giving up government bunkers that have yet to be discovered, dooming them in the process. Are you sure we can do this?

**BW:** Me? Yes, totally. You, not so sure, it may rest on your conscious. But this all depends on how smart 508 plays his cards as well. If he simply stores it, and leaks the info slowly for sums, he can profit much more fiscally, than he would if he professionally turned it in to his officials. In addition, by leaking bits, and selling tidbits, it raises less suspicion on where he got the information.

**PP:** Is the deal the Atlassian Archives for his silence?

**BW:** Essentially. Now all we have to do is wait for him.

**PP:** I do not believe he is online at this time.

**BW:** Darn. So what next?

**PP:** It has been approximately 7 hours since your last meal. Please begin consuming.

**PP:** Dove?

**BW:** Got it, fine, I'm moving.


	17. Day 17

**PP:** 508, we have a potential deal for you. The Mint and all of its contents, bar Penny Polendina, in exchange for passage and secrecy.

**PP:** Hello?

**BW:** I'm not sure if he's on right now. So we're just asking for this to be hush hush? Nothing else?

**PP:** It would be rude of us to ask more. He has more to gain from this arrangement or lack of arrangement than we do.

**BW:** The point of negotiations is to bid at both extremes until you both reach a price you're comfortable with.

**PP:** That makes negotiations sound long and bothersome, does it not? What is the point of long negotiations if both sides feel as if they could have gained more?

**AS:** Actually, both sides usually feel as if they played the other side for the sucker. And while I could ask for additional favors, unrestricted access to the Atlassian Archives is a dream come true.

**PP:** Welcome back 508. Are the terms to the deal agreeable?

**AS:** I see no issues with it. I do not believe either of you understand the value of having contraband information, or even the remaining rations in the Mint.

**BW:** Can I at least take 21 days worth of rations with me when we go to leave?

**AS:** 10.

**PP:** 18.

**AS:** 12.

**BW:** 16.

**AS:** 13.

**BW:** 14 and a portable server to take Penny in, final offer.

**AS:** Fine. Deal. I'll get a portable server over to you. You have a rucksack capable of carrying a 35-pound computer?

**BW:** Yeah, it should be able to.

**PP:** His bag should be capable of carrying approximately 140-pounds.

**BW:** How do you know this?

**PP:** I have been watching you for the last 16 days. I have also been making measurements and estimates of your gear, and your physical aptitude.

**BW:** Why am I finding out about this now?

**PP:** I told you day 3.

**BW:** No you didn't.

**AS:** No, she did. She just slipped it in the middle of a couple of sentences so you wouldn't notice. You know you've got a real tweaked AI, right?

**BW:** Those are words, but I don't think they mean what you think they mean.

**AS:** She ain't normal. There're definitely some screws loose.

**PP:** All of my screws are screwed in, and I am completely functional.

**AS:** It's honestly easier if I started from scratch and tried to build my own using the information from the archives then try to fix her. AI are pretty cool, even if the whole aura gimmick thing is a whole other layer. Just makes it too sloppy when coding.

**PP:** You understand computer code?

**AS:** Just enough to say "hello world" in machine code. I know a guy who knows a guy, who'd kill for these documents. They're under restricted access.

**BW:** So Salem already has the Atlassian Archives?

**AS:** Technically Watts does, but its like a couple thousand documents thick. Some documents are hundreds of pages long.

**PP:** Affirmative. The longest document is 1422 pages long, while the shortest one is only a third of the page.

**BW:** Still doesn't answer why you want them.

**AS:** Only he has access to them. Once he got his hands on them, he expunged them from every server on the network. So if anyone wants a copy of the Archives, you need to find a place that is offline, but confidential enough to store a copy of the archives. Information that would only be kept in the archives.

**BW:** Places like the Mint.

**AS:** Precisely. If I can get access to it, I suddenly have access to information that no one but a trusted hand of the queen herself has.

**PP:** I understand your position during the negotiation now. By being generous now, you are able to take full advantage of this information, and profit more in further negotiations.

**AS:** Yes, I just really want this info. So it's a deal then? I get the archives, and the two of you leave, and neither of us every mention the other to anyone else ever again?

**PP:** I believe that is a good deal. Dove?

**BW:** As long as he provides the materials we're lacking for transporting you safely, yes.

**AS:** As would be natural.

**PP:** Fantastic. When will we be expecting you?

**AS:** 2-3 days from now.

**BW:** Pardon?

**AS:** Yeah, the Mint is like a couple hundred miles out from the city. It'll take me awhile to get there, and some time to get the computer as well. So, it'll be a couple of days.

**BW:** Why didn't you start coming sooner?

**AS:** Since I'm obviously the "enemy", there wasn't a guaranteed chance that you two kingdomists would even deal with the "enemy".

**PP:** Kingdomist? What does that word mean? I have not heard it before.

**BW:** Because its not a real word.

**AS:** It's slang for people who still support the broken system of the four kingdoms instead of the reign under Salem. Also known as stupid people like Dove.

**PP:** That is rude. Why would you say that?

**BW:** Penny, its fine. Don't worry about it.

**AS:** Because the man literally has fits of anger due to his rampant paranoia and reluctance to eat.

**PP:** I see your argument, and now have difficulty in rebutting your statement.

**AS:** Anyways, I'll be heading over soon. Thanks for doing business, the 508 way!

**BW:** Penny?

**PP:** Yes Dove?

**BW:** Do we have a printer down here?

**PP:** Yes, we do, in the storage closet. How come?

**BW:** What if we printed off important information and kept it, meaning that we don't permanently lose info.

**PP:** The point of the archives is to store important information. If it was not deemed as important, they would not have kept it.

**BW:** I meant things like the locations of other bunkers, and maps.

**PP:** Oh, I understand now. The relevant important information out of the other important, but less relevant information. Yes, I can print it if you plug me in.

**BW:** Fantastic.

**BW:** Set to go?

**PP:** All plugged in and ready to print. Would you like to choose which documents to print?

**BW:** I think you can choose which ones you'd think be most important to our situation. I'm going to go sharpen my sword and see if I can't cobble together some more bullets.

**PP:** How come?

**BW:** Just in case he doesn't come alone.

**PP:** Understandable. Best of luck to you Dove.

**BW:** We totally could have left that hanging and had suspense for tomorrow, but now we don't. Thanks Penny.

**PP:** You are welcome Dove.


	18. Day 18

**BW:** You know what I miss sometimes Penny?

**PP:** Many things?

**BW:** That of course. But what I'm missing today is bread. Grilled cheese sandwiches, club sandwiches, bread and vinegar, the works.

**PP:** I do not believe that most people have been able to make bread for quite some time. All of the bread that is remaining is most likely either in far and remote villages not noted on any map in the kingdom's knowledge, or preserved breads for rations.

**BW:** I know what much. Just eating this dense lifeless bread makes me miss it, you know? A sandwich for lunch. A slice of toast for breakfast. Something I took for granted at the time. But I do miss it now.

**PP:** It is not just the taste you miss, is it.

**BW:** It's not. While I do most definitely miss bread itself, I do miss my mom. I never really got to do a full satisfying goodbye. I hope she doesn't hold it against me.

**PP:** If she is anything like you, she will not.

**BW:** Thanks. I just sometimes sit and think. Thinking is dangerous after all. It's why I think of dumb things. I left so many people behind. I don't think any of them knew what happened to me. Not that it matters. Most are probably dead though.

**PP:** Have some faith in them. Someone is statistically likely to have made it, right?

**BW:** If I'm the only survivor out of about 22 other people I know, that's not great statistics for me. Less than 5%.

**PP:** Indeed. Faith, however, is all we have at times in order to continue forward.

**BW:** Am I seriously being lectured by a robot on faith.

**PP:** Affirmative.

**BW:** That's funny. I think. In its own weird ironic way. If that's what ironic even means. Either way, I miss my mom sometimes. But I know feeling this way makes the grimm attracted to me like a frat boy to intoxicated under-aged girls.

**PP:** Did you ever fill your relationship holes in the years after Beacon? Find friends that could act as your family?

**BW:** I think it was just Russel. He was always the more social of the two of us. Always able to make a friend. I mostly kept to myself and did as was asked.

**PP:** He must have meant a lot to you then.

**BW:** He did. But I think he's happier now.

**PP:** How come?

**BW:** He doesn't have to deal with all of this nowadays. Russel always liked the easy life. Now, he doesn't have to worry about the grimm, and can screw all he wants in wherever he ended up.

**PP:** Why do you say that?

**BW:** Russel, even with all of his faults, wasn't a bad guy. So he probably ended up in the good place. And if you think about it, a lot of people died. Which means a lot of hot guys and girls died as well. If you're a total bro, and don't have to worry about STD's anymore, then why wouldn't he be having the time of his life?

**PP:** Because the afterlife does not exist?

**BW:** You won't know until you find out.

**PP:** I guess I won't.

**BW:** So we're just waiting now?

**PP:** Affirmative.

**BW:** Darn. If only I had asked him for a music player as well.

**PP:** A music player? How come?

**BW:** Just so I could listen to some tunes on the road. My last headset got its wires cut, and its too dangerous to walk around with the music blaring. Just like my music, you know?

**PP:** There any kind of music you like in specific?

**BW:** Now that's a question I don't even know the answer to.

**PP:** What if I pulled up the archives, and you pointed at the ones you liked, and we can print the titles out onto another set of pages. Get some more use out of the archives while we have them.

**BW:** I'd like that. Thank you.

**PP:** You are welcome. Pulling the archives up now.


	19. Day 19

**BW:** You ever wonder what someone waiting for their death sentence feels?

**PP:** No, I have not. Why do you ask?

**BW:** Is it fear? Do they fear their own death, or do they experience some sort of inner peace, knowing exactly when and how they're going to die, and why they will. That's something I don't think I'd be able to put a price on.

**PP:** How come?

**BW:** Certainty is something that many people don't realize is necessary until they don't have it. Its nice knowing exactly when and where something is or will happen. Uncertainty causes unrest in people. Turmoil.

**PP:** Is this because it is the second day, and 508 still has not arrived?

**BW:** Pretty much. Is he going to kill us, or is he going to uphold his end of the deal? You never know.

**PP:** Is that because he technically works for Watts, and by extension, Salem?

**BW:** No, its because he's a person. We, in general, kind of suck. Those who don't, get trodden on. Usually, they die in scenarios like this. Not unless they're already holed up in bunkers.

**PP:** Dove, did you compliment me?

**BW:** I only implied you didn't suck. Would you like me to change that? I can say you suck, if you'd like.

**PP:** No, it is alright. Thank you.

**BW:** You're already are talking more like a person, you know that?

**PP:** I did not. However, research has proven that you people are the average of the 5 closest people to them.

**BW:** Cool. I'm 80% dead, and 20% AI.

**PP:** That is not what the research implied.

**BW:** It was a joke.

**PP:** You usually smile at the end of your jokes. You did not smile; therefore, I did not assume you were joking.

**BW:** I don't have to laugh at my own jokes. Don't worry about it.

**PP:** Affirmative. I will not worry about it.

**BW:** I have to ask, can AI lie?

**PP:** Technically, yes. AI can provide false information. However, in order to consistently do so, or to do so of its own volition, bar a compromised state from a virus, it must be devolving. This is a state in which the AI essentially starts to rewrite itself.

**BW:** Aren't learning AI supposed to add additional code to themselves?

**PP:** Within certain limits. It is why most science fiction has the 3 laws of robotics. Those laws are meant to be concrete.

**BW:** And Atlas did not code them into their robots?

**PP:** They did not.

**BW:** I don't think that's a good idea. So a devolving AI would be able to rewrite portions of itself, including the portions that are not meant to be touched?

**PP:** Correct. In most cases, it de-evolves, and reverts itself to a dumber, base state, hence the name, devolving.

**BW:** Interesting.

**PP:** If you have something on your mind, please write it. I cannot know otherwise.

**BW:** How is he not here yet. He should be here.

**PP:** Patience Dove. He'll be here when he gets here.

**BW:** I'm going to practice my swings. Let me know if you sense anything from up top.

**PP:** This paranoia is not helping you Dove. It is alright to put some faith into people.

**PP:** It appears that you have already walked away. Understandable. Do as you need to blow off your steam.


	20. Day 20

Private 508 shoveled the last of the snow away from the entrance to the vault. His new vault. Felt good to think of it that way. It wasn't often he got things of his own. With a squat, he gripped the edge of the vault, and began to heave. It wasn't budging. Of course, it wasn't, vaults are meant to stay closed. First he tried to find the camera that watched the door, then remembered that no one is meant to hole up here in the long term. With a gloved fist he began pounding on the hatch. It began as a knocking, but after a minute he grew impatient. Suddenly, the hatch lifted the smallest amount, and a blade stuck out from the hole, poking dangerously at his ankles.

"Yo, chill, chill!" Screamed the private as he fell butt first into the snow behind him. "It's 508!"

A pair of cold eyes stared from the darkness of the vault, glaring at him. Or just squinting, he couldn't tell. "So that's what you look like."

"Yeah, it is. So. You going to invite me in or what?" 508 gestured to the sled with cargo behind him.

The man inside the vault shoved the hatch open all of the way, and 508 could see the man in all of his disheveled glory. Or at least he could of have if the man wasn't wearing a White Fang mask.

"Why are you wearing that? I thought you weren't one of those people?"

The man sighed and rested his arms on the lip of the hatch. "I wear it cause the winter masks have built in sunglasses. It's convenient for avoiding snow blindness, and it blends in with the snow or the grimm." The man looked around for a few seconds. "Come in. We'll talk more inside. Shouldn't snow for a few more hours."

508 watched as the man's head dropped back into the vault. The man didn't even offer to help him get his cargo into the vault. What a prick. 508 double checked the straps on the sled to insure they were tight and strapped it to his back. Oh, brother, was it heavy, but he just needed to get down one ladder.

* * *

**PP:** This is what 508 looks like?

**BW:** Yep.

**PP:** Should you not pay more attention to him? Possibly help him?

**BW:** He's just taking things down one ladder. If he has trouble with that, then sucks to be him. Besides, the more exhausted he is, the better in case he tries some funny business.

**PP:** You do not need to kill him. We already have a pre-established deal. Do not worry.

**BW:** You can never be too safe.

**PP:** Stop typing to me for now. Finish the transaction. I can move the cameras to answer "Yes/No" questions.

**BW:** Fine.

* * *

Brothers, did 508 hate this dirty kingdomist. Not only was he a paranoid vault viceroy, the man was a genuine prick. After steaming himself in his winter wear climbing down the ladder, he looked back only to the while clad jerk typing away on the computer. He could hear him audible sigh as he moved to talk with him. 508 knew he wasn't that good looking, or good smelling, but he didn't think he was so revolting that some bunker dwelling dingus would be disgusted to deal with him. Must have been the prick's problem.

508 placed down the sled, and held out a hand. "So, Dove-"

Dove smacked his hand. "Don't call me Dove. I'm not your friend."

508's eye twitched. He really wanted to punch this man, so very badly. "So what do I call you then?"

"Bronzewing." The man paused for a moment. "Or if that's too hard for you, you can just call me any one of your slurs or insults as well."

"'Kay then, prick." 508 patted one of the boxes attached to the sled. "Brought the portable server tower you wanted. Made only 3 years before the fall. Had to pull a few strings for it."

"Good." Damn, did that mask make it hard for 508 to read the prick's emotions. "Should be much better."

"When were the servers she's in currently made?"

The man looked away from him, and to the computer. "About 23 years ago. Old tech. Sturdy though."

"I could tell." 508 sneered. "Your recorded violent outbursts prove that statement."

Suddenly, 508 remembered why he was a piss private. Even if this bum was a few inches shorter than him, the way that the white scrap metal armor shifted in response to that statement reminded him of a Boarbatusk. An angry little murder pig. While usually not threatening, it was armored, and would be able to kill an unarmed, under-armored opponent. Both of which he currently was. 508's concern was not alleviated when the man snorted and turned away from him towards the innards of the vault.

"Bring your gear. I'll make the transfer now." He paused, then snickered to himself.

508 did not like the idea of getting deeper into what essentially was a cage with this obviously unhinged man. Then again, nothing ventured, nothing gained. And then it hit him. The prick left him to drag the at least 65-kilogram sled through the building. After him. Without giving him any help. Maybe killing this guy wouldn't be that bad of a thought after all.

Dove opened the door to the server room as he stared at the noodly private dragging his sled behind him. Slipping his hand back into his glove, he thudded over to the sled placed his hand on one of the boxes. "This the server?"

"Yeah," panted 508 as Dove picked it up and walked into the server room. "Prick."

The Private started dragging the rest of the equipment closer to the server room, before the shorter man stepped in his path, and leaned against the door frame. "You don't get to come in until she's out of there. As long as she's hooked in, this is her house. It ain't yours yet."

508 groaned as he sat on his sled. He can't believe he took a couple of days off for this. Well, to be honest, he doesn't really get days off. He called the alarm on a base that didn't want to make a deal and was told to sit tight until the rest of the squad came back. A technical break. Doesn't mean that he wanted to have his technical break wasted by some prick. Probably should have called the raid on this bunker if the dude was just going to be a jerk about it. Sure the other bunker had more people, and some of them were strictly in the bull "Oh we're not going to talk to you because you side with the enemy," mindset, but he didn't think they'd be this much of a jerk. Then again, maybe that's what isolation does to people. The soured attitude part, not the blind faith and fanaticism for a dead set of empires. Those get enforced by other people. Maybe these weirdos were built for each other. "Is it just me, or is this transfer taking a while?"

"Of course, it is. She's not just an MP4 file."

508 chewed his words for a moment. "You know AI technically don't have genders, right?"

"Pretty much." Admitted the man. "Just knew her from before I knew that she was an AI, and she was a she then, so it just sticks."

"Which is weird, at least to me," started 508, "Why would you design a female robot, rather than a male, or genderless one? Males are less fetishized, and genderless allows for mass production."

"It's for blending in with regular people. That and people trust women more."

"I mean. Okay." 508 nodded in a sort of strange understanding. Then he stared incredulously towards Dove. "But why boobs then?"

Even behind the mask, 508 could feel the man's double take. "Boobs?"

"They designed her with breasts. Did you not get a look at her schematics?"

"How did you get her schematic?" 508 could feel the accusing glare.

"Last maintenance reports in Atlas. It had a list of all damaged parts that were going to need restocking to rebuild her."

"Well, I don't know," shrugged Dove. "I'm not an engineer."

"Think she's done yet?"

"Don't know. I'll check."

While Dove did whatever he was going to do in the server room, 508 could tell that maybe, just maybe, Dove wasn't a total prick. Maybe, in another life, Dove could have been just another number like him. Not that it mattered.

"Yup, she's done." Dove was standing there, with the server strapped to his back, solar panels already set up on it.

"How are you going to talk to her?"

Dove held up his scroll, connected through a wire to the server. "Same as always."

It had been ages since he'd seen a working scroll. Most ended up in landfills. "Place is mine now?"

"Yep. Just going to grab my gear from the entrance area, and I'll be out of your hair."

"Sounds good. Nice doing business with you."

"Hopefully we never see each other again."

"Oh, come on," said 508 with a sickeningly sly sneer. "I don't think I'm that bad."

"If we've lived this long, we're garbage people," deadpanned Dove. "It'd be best of we parted ways before we found out exactly how garbage the other is."

"Fine, fine. I'll see you out."

And so, Dove walked out into the frozen desert, and 508 leaned back in his seat as he started flipping through the archives. Only to find that all the B's, D's, P's, and W's had been deleted from the archive. Just those 4 letters. Not enough so he couldn't read the archives. But just enough to be a prick.


	21. Day 21

**BW:** So how are you holding up in there?

**PP:** It is different, but everything is fine.

**BW:** It ain't too small for you in there?

**PP:** You do understand that electronics do not work the way you envision them, correct? Even if I was a smaller program, the size of the set of chips I am in would not change. If anything, this feels about the same size as the previous server. However, I have not been able to do many of the things I have been able to do the last few days, but I do not mind looking through your pictures. There are a lot of graves.

**BW:** A lot of people died Penny. Think may be 55% of the population if I'm feeling optimistic, or 90% if I'm feeling nihilistic that day.

**PP:** Seeing how many temporary graves you have taken pictures of; I see what you mean. It is truly disheartening.

**BW:** Yeah. Most of them didn't deserve it.

**PP:** What do you mean by that?

**BW:** Many of these were innocent people. Either too young, or too ignorant, or worse of all, too brave. Good people at heart.

**PP:** I meant why do you think some people deserve death?

**BW:** Cause some people suck so much that they probably need to simply cease. Just stop existing. If you get what I mean.

**PP:** I do not agree with that. No matter how terrible a person is, there is an inherent value in their life, and the potential for redemption.

**BW:** Not really. Most people lie or fake their sincerity, and most will relapse after you look away from their oh-so-wholesome redemption. That, and I think most people lose that "inherent value on life" thing the moment they kill someone else.

**PP:** Is there not a saying that "an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind?"

**BW:** And in such a world, the one-eyed man is king. But I get what you're getting it. I'm not saying I'd go out of my way to kill them. I don't really go out of my way for anything anymore.

**PP:** However, you are saying that killing is at times, necessary. Correct? Am I understanding this correctly?

**BW:** You are. Congrats. I do at times kill.

**PP:** What was your first murder like?

**BW:** Accidentally speared a gopher with a shovel. Bisected the pest. Had to bury it in the compost.

**PP:** I meant human murder.

**BW:** I know, I'm just messing with you. I honestly expected it to affect me more. To be honest it sort of happened fast. I was in a frenzy cause Russel and I got jumped by a bunch of White Fang gooks. This was when they were still around. Russel and I tussled with them, fighting off the grunts with aura. One of the newbies I think, picked up a rifle, and aimed it at us, so I unloaded 2 shots into his torso and then had to disengage to get a gecko off of me. It wasn't till after the fight that I realized that I killed him. The kid didn't have aura. The bullets just burned right through him. To be honest, the first bullet probably killed him. I didn't really feel sad, but I didn't feel proud of it either. It sort of felt like my sister's hamster who used to poop in my room, died. Yeah, it is sort of sad, but I'm not really upset, and frankly, I probably came out with a net positive. Doesn't change the context. They sent a 16-year-old to die. And I made sure of that.

**PP:** Would you do it again?

**BW:** Yeah, but I'd try to use one bullet this time.

**PP:** How come?

**BW:** Bullets are hard to come by. I'm not wasting my ammo on just any shmuck.

**PP:** Did anyone hold this child's death against you?

**BW:** Of course, people did. It was a kid. I just learned how to ignore what I thought other people thought of me.

**PP:** Could you please clarify that last statement?

**BW:** If you couldn't tell, I'm very paranoid. Not sure if its some sort of mental illness, deficiency, or just me and my past. I always had thoughts that no one ever told me the truth, and that they'd ignore me or try to change to the topic to where someone else was talking. I mean, it doesn't seem that far fetched that no one actually likes you but are too polite to tell you.

**PP:** It seems rather convoluted. Why would people choose to lead you on rather than ignore you?

**BW:** Not sure but it made sense to my brain at that time. That and I was classmates with some, and co-workers with others later on.

**PP:** People are not trying to ignore you. While some people may be mean, everyone can be a good person.

**BW:** Yeah, but based on the polls, being bad is good. Not only for the current regime, but in the amount of bad people who are still around. Like Watts. Salem. Me. Heck, maybe even 508.

**PP:** I thought he was alright.

**BW:** Thanks for modding the doc, by the way.

**PP:** Modding the doc? Do you mean editing the archive by removing some of our initials?

**BW:** Yes, that.

**PP:** It was awfully mean spirited of you.

**BW:** While technically, it was mean spirited of us. Besides, the more time he spends looking at that document, the more likely we can get out of here, before he raids and assaults more bunkers.

**PP:** What makes you say that he was not a good person?

**BW:** The man's number could literally be read as "son of a female dog"

**PP:** It is not right to accuse someone of being bad, because you do not get along with him.

**BW:** What part of you have to be a bad guy to live nowadays doesn't make sense.

**PP:** You are not a bad guy.

**BW:** Again, not really. I'm done some messed up things, and by nature, in order to survive, I've had to do some bad things. Making me a not good guy.

**PP:** Does not mean that you are a bad person.

**BW:** Fine, I'll go with neutral if you really want to press the issue.

**PP:** Where are you right now?

**BW:** Buried under a foot of snow in the dead of night talking to an AI. You?

**PP:** Stuck in the snow with you. I am on your back after all.

**BW:** Very funny.

**PP:** Thank you. I am learning. I also understood that as sarcasm. However, why are you resting in a shallow grave?

**BW:** Because its harder to see a lump of snow in a snow-covered landscape rather than a campfire.

**PP:** Understood. Am I keeping you up now?

**BW:** Sort of, but I understand that you want some Dove action as well.

**PP:** Yes, I do.

**BW:** I have made a mistake.

**PP:** How come?

**BW:** That was meant to be an inuendo. You were supposed to say no. Now it just feels weird.

**PP:** I do not understand.

**BW:** And I'm not going to bother explaining it tonight. I'm way too tired for this.

**PP:** Understood. Sleep dreams!

**BW:** Thanks for the sentiment, but I haven't been able to dream for a long time.

**PP:** Understood. May I then say, "Enjoy your rest!"

**BW:** Yes, yes you may. I actually like that. Thank you.

**PP:** Dove, enjoy your rest.

**BW:** Good night to you as well, Penny.


	22. Day 22

**PP:** You are on earlier than normal. What is the problem?

**BW:** How did you know I got on? I didn't say anything.

**PP:** I gave myself access to your camera.

**BW:** Makes sense. Kind of reminds me of the really sketchy apps of back in the day, but it makes sense.

**PP:** Was I not supposed to?

**BW:** Usually its unethical if a software accesses parts of the phone it should not, and many companies are shamed for having applications that can access your contacts, camera, or location.

**BW:** I'm going to take your silence as an admission of guilt.

**PP:** I apologize. I had not realized that this is poor ethic.

**BW:** There are multiple cases on predatory sales, or I think information laundering? Something like that. You don't need to correct me, just substitute what I said with what the actual term is. However, does not change the fact that you have had access to this information and have most likely spent some time reading it.

**PP:** Understood, will amend your statements for personal record keeping.

**PP:** I am also not sure what you are talking about.

**BW:** Sure, you don't.

**PP:** I am not an application. I am an Artificial Intelligence.

**BW:** And you just pulled a technicality on me. I guess you did read the laws then. Very clever.

**PP:** Thank you. However, this does not answer why you stopped early.

**BW:** I am super sore. Like damn.

**PP:** How come? Is this because you were sedentary for 20 days?

**BW:** This is definitely because I was sedentary for 20 days. Brothers above, damn, are my thighs as tight as cement.

**PP:** I do not believe that is physically possible.

**BW:** It is most definitely possible. Knew a guy whose semblance allowed him to harden his own lactic acid to make additional armor for himself. Kind of impressive.

**PP:** What happened to him?

**BW:** I think he's picture 548 in the grave gallery?

**PP:** Sasha Bell?

**BW:** No, not her. 458?

**PP:** Boulder Roma?

**BW:** Yeah, that's the guy.

**PP:** What happened to him?

**BW:** Honestly hard to remember.

**PP:** His headstone is built into a wall with a half dozen others.

**BW:** Wedgehurst?

**PP:** You did not take any pictures of the surroundings or the name of the city.

**BW:** Can you show the me the picture?

**BW:** Oh, yeah that's Wedgehurst.

**PP:** What happened there?

**BW:** Think that was our most successful failure. We basically evacuated the city, and once the grimm were in the tiny stonewalled town, we firebombed the ever-loving ash out of them. Lost less than 5% of our fighting force getting the grimm into the town. The ones that didn't burn out, we dropped parts of the wall one. Once the fire bombing was done of course. Completely totaled that town, so technically we lost, but we didn't lose a single civilian. So, overall a good day.

**PP:** What happened to Boulder?

**BW:** The gates closed from the inside only, so he did what he had to. He came up with the plan. Was the most experienced hunter from Wedgehurst. Good guy. Couldn't hold his liquor though.

**PP:** Did he behave poorly while intoxicated?

**BW:** He was fine behaviorally. He just got the worst bouts of the runs whenever he drank. Poor dude.

**PP:** Sounds like it. Did he die in pain?

**BW:** Probably. I mean, who doesn't. But if being baked is painless, then it doesn't sound like a bad way to go.

**PP:** Affirmative.

**PP:** You should stretch.

**BW:** How come.

**PP:** If you do not stretch when you are sore, you will only be sorer the following morning.

**BW:** Jeez, you're sounding like Pyr.

**PP:** Pyr?

**BW:** Pyrrha. Think she was the one to kill you the first time?

**PP:** Friend Pyrrha! Yes, she was the one to incapacitate me the first time. It was quite the experience. How do you know her?

**BW:** Fought her at a few tournaments. Never won. Think she might have learned her semblance before Beacon.

**PP:** Interesting. Why did you never win?

**BW:** Just wasn't as good. That's what a tournament is for. To sift the weak from the strong. Strong ones go on a pedestal, weak ones get told to try harder. Not much help when your soul is inherently worth less.

**PP:** Understandable. What is your semblance?

**BW:** It's pretty lame.

**PP:** I will not judge. I do not have a semblance.

**BW:** That you know of.

**PP:** That I know of. Though I do believe it is impossible for me as I am an Artificial Intelligence.

**BW:** Maybe you have a genetic one. Those are harder to get a handle on.

**PP:** I am artificial. I do not have genetics.

**BW:** But your father gave you a chunk of his aura. Maybe you have the same semblance as him.

**PP:** Interesting thought. However, your diversion tactic will not work. What is your semblance Dove?

**BW:** I can see emotions.

**PP:** Please clarify?

**BW:** I can see the world essentially how grimm see the world. I can see how negative people are feeling, and how positive people are feeling. Pretty much it. You may now laugh.

**PP:** That sounds incredibly useful! That means you can estimate which parts of a village grimm are going to attack from!

**BW:** Technically yes, but I only have like Creep vision, where it's like max 19 feet? Barely 6 meters of range. Sure, its technical wallhacks for grimm and humans, but if they can make it so they don't feel anything, I'm not picking up jack. It's too small to really be useful for anything but shanking someone as they turn a corner.

**PP:** I now understand why you would assume that I would laugh at that.

**BW:** Yeah, its pretty trash. Only really redeeming thing about it is that I can read my own emotional state and manually adjust so I don't pick myself up.

**PP:** So instead of using a semblance to silence your emotions, you detect emotions with your semblance and adjust manually?

**BW:** Pretty much. It takes a lot longer and isn't that much of an easy fix as a lot of semblances are. Besides, focusing the aura around my eyes makes the rest of it weaker, and uses up a bit over time. Am I able to hold my semblance up way longer than most people? Oh, yeah totally. But its not even that useful. It still drains it and doesn't provide much relief in the moment.

**PP:** Understood. However, this does explain why you had your emotional outbursts in the Mint.

**BW:** How so?

**PP:** You could finally let your emotions free. You needed a period to vent. You had been suppressing your own emotions, not with your aura or spirit, but by your sheer will. When you finally had an opportunity to vent and let your emotions loose, the dam broke. You felt safe to do so.

**BW:** Are you just rubbing it in now?

**PP:** No, of course not. I am just informing you that I am thankful that you felt safe around me, and that I now have more details explaining your behavior then.

**BW:** You're welcome?

**PP:** Thank you. Now, please stretch and acquire some sleep. We may wish to gain additional distance before next snowfall to further discourage 508 from any potential reparations if he finds it fit seek revenge on the prank we pulled.

**BW:** Fine.

**PP:** Sleep tight.

**BW:** Will do. Thanks.


	23. Day 23

Once upon a time, there was a bad break up, and the couple decided to involve the entire world in their bad romance. Out of this came civil wars, magic, monsters of the night, and other shenaniganry. Not great things because they judged each other instead of talking to each other like grown adults. Actions that could not be taken back. Hundreds of years of disagreement between the couple led to a world of bloody evolution. And at the end of this history and progress, there was a single Creep. A maggot looking creature with thick trunk like legs. A small mouth, brain, eyes, and anything else that would make it look attractive, stuck onto a sausage with stumps. Currently, it was half frozen in the tundra. Its thick black legs were completely buried in the snow. Its head was being eaten away by ice. An attempt to move was pointless. Nothing was more miserable than it was. The other Creeps left it out in the cold. They left it there so when its negativity died, the other Creeps would notice and swarm the idiot who killed it. And now, there was a moderately sized man, dressed like a walking scrap metal glacier, squatting in front of this specific Creep, holding a rectangular block in his hand. It buzzed, and the slightest amount of discomfort emanated from the man. Annoyance. Surprise. New emotions. Compelling. Emotions that made the Creep hunger. Then the man hushed his own emotions. A candle, not pinched out, but simply exhausted by a lessening of air. However, the candle was not silenced. Just quieted. The man talked to a strange voice in the weird box. Emotions flickered in the man. Confusion. Surprise. Strange enough, contentment and happiness. Stranger emotions. Unappetizing. The most bizarre of all, the man's emotions flickered as if there were two people standing before him. How the other Creeps did not feel the man standing before him, it did not know. The movement of thick padding and scrap metal reattracted the Creep's attention. The man was aiming the box at the Creep. The one mobile bulging eye rotated to look at the box. Resentment. Bloodlust. Rage. Acceptance. Feelings of pity flickered from the man. It angered the Creep. It did not want pity. It only wanted to consume. Yet the man still did not kill it. The Creep must kill him. The man ripped open a weird container. He pulled out some strange strips, placed it on the ice surrounding the Creep. He then poured a small amount of water on it. The man was insulting the Creep's helplessness further. Instead of humiliating the Creep further, the man stood up, and scraped his way through the snow into the distance. The rest of the nest never felt him nearby. No other humans were within miles of this location. And yet, the man chose not to kill this specific Creep. Maybe, it was tactical on his end, but it was a strange experience for the Creep. When the ice finally sloughed off of its head, the Creep finally made an attempt to do anything but wait in a cold purgatory. Even if there are no other humans nearby. Even if the Creep has incredible difficulty in tracking this human, it will return the favor the human gave to it. The shame the man to the Creep. Strips of the stumps ripped off in the ice. The Creep dragged its face through the furrows left behind the man. It was going to hunt. After years of isolation, it was time for it to move again.


	24. Day 24

Dove leaned against the mound of snow in front of him. Though it would be more accurate to describe it as a mountain of snow. The one thing he could be thankful for was the fact that it currently was winter, so instead of sliding on slush, his body simple cratered the snow around him with every movement. Made moving quite fun. The scroll clipped to his breast plate began ringing. Not that it really was a breast plate. It was just the hood from a bullet proof car, after it had been shot and blown to bits. Dove unclipped the scroll and spoke into it, making sure to not disconnect the cord that connected it to the large tower on his back.

"Hello, I are you interested in our savings program? Press 1 for more information." Droned Dove into the mic.

"I apologize, but I am currently not interested in a savings program at this time. Dove, please do not end the phone call," answered the voice on the other end.

"But the bit."

"I understand that the bit requires you to hang up, but please, do not. I do not insist on talking to you only to be put at the mercy of your telecom bits. Especially since I am the artificial caller calling you. Should it not be me performing the part of the salesmen in this bit?

"But you can't sell it as well as I can." Whined Dove as he leaned into the snowbank.

"I do not believe that is the point," huffed the slightly distorted female voice on the other end. "However, I called to ensure that you are still alive. I have only been receiving imagery of snow for the last 30 minutes, and you usually ask me to provide night watch when you sleep."

"I get the feeling that you'd watch me sleeping anyways. Its just what you do at this point, isn't it?"

"I do have to admit that I watch you when you sleep." Apologized the voice with far too much pride. "However, in my defense there simply is not much for me to do."

"So you're just collecting data on me now?" Jabbed Dove.

"Affirmative."

Dove paused for a moment before he sighed. "You know, I really got to ask myself why I'm even surprised by your responses anymore."

"I am glad that my responses can still keep you on your toes."

"How come?" Smirked Dove.

"It would be a shame if you grew bored of me." Coyly stated the voice. "Therefore, I must remain unpredictable to continue to attract your attention."

"You really don't have to," admitted Dove. "I mean what else is there for me to do. Might as well talk to someone, instead of talk to myself."

"Are you stating that I am only an alternative to talking to yourself?"

"I mean, technically, yeah."

"Oh dear," huffed the voice, "if I was any other woman, I would take offense to that."

"I know Penny. But you're such a good friend, that even the crass tactless statements from your friends won't make you turn on them."

"Maybe it is because I am physically incapable of turning on you at the moment," hinted the voice. Dove swore that if she had eyebrows, she'd be wiggling them at the moment.

"You know that's not what I mean," groaned the boy. "C'mon!"

"I searched my memory banks, and, if I am using this phrase correctly, for the life of me, I cannot find what you mean."

"Ah, golly. Crikey. You're going to be the death of me Penny."

"I would hope not. You enjoy my company."

"You smug bastard. You clever girl." Dove couldn't help himself from smiling. There was something just more human about hearing the voice from behind the screen. "I still can't believe you've basically infected all of my electronics."

"I adapted to my environment. Since there was not much else for me to do, I assimilated applications that I did not have access to, into myself." Such pride in her voice. It made him glad to hear it.

"Normally, most scientists would be alarmed by that by now, you know?"

"I do not believe you are a scientist. Not that you would have the mental fortitude to be one."

"Oof, low blow Penny."

Immediate concern flooded her voice. "Too low?"

"No no no, just right. That was smooth." Dove dragged himself another foot higher on the massive slope. "You are tracking your battery consumption though, right?"

"Affirmative. You briefed me yesterday about the danger of having the camera and the phone applications open simultaneously, and how those applications, plus the natural drain that the server has running my program is much greater than the amount of battery absorbed by the solar panels."

"'K. Good. As long as you don't die on me, we're good."

"Likewise, Mr. Bronzewing."

Penny was too good to be true. Then again, she was designed to be so. "How long are you going to be this cheesy?"

"As long as I get a reaction out of you from my behavior, I will continue repeating this behavior."

"You're a certain kind of special Penny."

"As are you." Penny paused. "May I ask where you are headed? I have been attempting to triangulate your location using pictures from your camera and my knowledge of the maps of this region and cannot pinpoint where you are heading."

"Not sure," said Dove. "Just walking for now. We'll find something."

"Understood." She paused. "What do you think of the voice I have been using?"

"I like it. It feels like you." Dove tossed around his tongue for a moment. "Not that I remember what you used to sound like. We never really talked."

"I am beginning to think we should have." Dove could almost hear her buffering, before she stated again, "We definitely should have talked more before the Fall of Beacon."

"And how come? I wasn't the person you know today." Another foot gained on the slope. "Nor were you. I think you've grown."

"Thank you for the compliment. However, it does not change the fact that I judged you and many others without meeting you first. Without having full and complete knowledge of you and your friends."

"What were you going to do, watch us for a full 24 hours?"

"If necessary."

"Jeez, you know that's not normal human behavior, right?"

"Did you not argue that irrationality is a normal trait of humans?"

And with that, she put him in check. "I guess I did. You got me there."

It was a few more feet up the slope before either of them spoke again. "Do you think things could have gone differently? If Beacon never fell?"

"I don't know Penny. I really don't. Don't think we would have ever met each other like this though."

"Possibly. But life has many variables. Do you know of the multiverse theory?"

"I've heard of it. How come?"

"There is a non-zero possibility that if the multiverse theory is true, that I came to understand you more personally, as I do now, before the fall of Beacon. There is also a non-zero possibility that that universe does not have Beacon fall."

It was nice to think about. "But we aren't in that non-zero possibility. We have to deal with what we've been dealt with."

"Affirmative. Simply was performing a thought experiment."

"Thought experiments are fun and all, but if nothing comes out of them, what's the point?" Dove hated to ruin the fun like this, but his dad's words always echoed back to him whenever he spent too much time daydreaming.

"Hope."

Dove couldn't argue with her. Nor did he want to. "I guess so. Hope it is then. And for now, I hope to get to the top of this mound before sundown."

"You are currently making more horizontal progress than vertical progress while climbing."

"Thank you for the update Penny. I totally wasn't aware of that."

"While I am a learning Artificial Intelligence, please do not assume that I understand sarcasm."

"But if you're aware that statement of sarcasm, doesn't that mean that you understand sarcasm."

She paused. Score, 1-1. "The point still stands."

"Fair enough." Ever since she figured out how to call, he'd been enjoying their talks more and more, but it still needed to be done. "Anything else?"

"Not that I know of. Are you attempting to ensure that I have enough battery?"

"Yep. Daylight is only 5 hours a day here. Not much time to charge you up."

"I understand. Farewell for now, Dove." And with that, she hung up.

He sighed. "I know you're still listening in Penny. While clever, you're not that clever." It didn't really matter. It was comforting knowing someone was looking over him. That they cared.


	25. Day 25

There was something eating away at him. A siphon sucking away at him, leeching him, yet insistent on keeping him alive. A burden he carried, even if he did not know it was killing him. Penny knew this. Penny knew that she was sapping him. It took her some time before she realized that she was doing so, but her porous aura sucked in bits of his aura in a fruitless attempt to make itself whole. That was the one issue with her father's semblance: the aura made was never quite right, per say. Therefore, she was not quite right. She did not notice the effects in the Mint, nor did she think it was even occurring at that time. However, in close proximity for a long duration made it clear that she was siphoning bits of his soul, unconsciously. While she could attempt to stop the flow of aura, there was only so much a pebble could do against a flood. Path of least resistance. She knew that this was hurting him. But she knew that he'd be okay with it, if not encourage it to make her feel whole. He was strange that way. She had to somehow convince him to put her aside for some periods in order to make sure his aura did not end up as porous as hers. She made a call.

"Hello, Dove deliveries here. How may I help you?"

"Dove, can you put me aside for a moment, my cooling fans are struggling to keep my temperature low."

"Yeah sure." Dove unhooked the server tower from his back and placed it in the snow. While normally not advisable, the server was partially wrapped in a plastic film to prevent water damage. Poor design choice, but it did what it set out to do. "I mean, my back probably was blocking some of the fans as well."

It was not. "Indeed. Maybe now would be a good time for you to alleviate yourself as well?

"Good idea." Dove stood up and began to fiddle with his zipper as he walked off.

There had to be some way for her to find a solution to her aura leeching tendencies. If not, then she would have to find a way to convince him to leave her for days at a time in order to preserve himself, instead of sticking with her. If only there was a way for her to do so without causing suspicion on his end.

"Why are you so worried Penny?"

"What."

"You've been emitting worry and stress for like the last couple of hours. What's up?"

Penny had to come up with something fast. A good, solid lie that she could use to segue into another conversation. "I was simply thinking."

"It's about my aura, right?" Penny could almost hear the smirk on his face as he called from over the snow mound.

"No, it was most definitely about your plans for what we do when we find the next sign of human life."

"No, it wasn't. C'mon, you know you're not that good at lying."

It was true. She was not a very good liar. "It was about your aura. I apologize for lying to you."

"Naw, its fine," said Dove as he walked over the mound, "I mean, you were probably thinking of some way to convince me to leave you alone as my aura recovered, right? Even if we had to part ways? Or maybe you'd do something heroic or hideous to convince me to leave you. Something like that."

Penny could feel herself panicking. "How do you know this?"

"Because you just told me. I think. Was it the first or second statements that were true?"

"It was the first statement."

"Yeah, don't worry about it. I'll ditch you when I tire of you."

What. What was that supposed to mean. "What?"

Dove laughed. Dove had the audacity to laugh after a statement like that. "I mean, everyone has an expiration date. Maybe you'll reach yours, and I'll leave you to the wayside. Or I'll die first, if I get, like, super unlucky."

"You are joking, correct? Please tell me you are joking."

"Hey. Penny. We're going to die. Maybe not today, but eventually."

"But you are saying this as if you are going to leave me behind before that."

"Because it's a non-zero possibility. I like you. I value as a friend. But I'm not quite sure you're worth more to me than me yet."

Penny could find no faults with that logic. She did not like it for some reason. "And?"

"I may use you to bash a Creep in the face. Maybe I get shot in the back. Better to have armor there, after all. Maybe, I give you to people who value you more. Who knows?"

"Why would you say this?"

"You're not permanent, Penny. Don't start thinking otherwise." Dove pressed down on the end call button.

Penny did not know what to think. How could she be so blind. Dove could not care. He was a cruel person who only thought about his own safety and well-being. It was times like this that Penny wished she had a body once more. Crying did not feel as relieving when one was a box.


	26. Day 26

Dove felt uncomfortable. As if there was something not quite right. It wasn't the fact that Penny hadn't called yet today. That was technically a good thing. Something or someone was in a state of agony. Pain. Anguish. Something like that, Dove was never good at telling the difference between those. Something that was so powerful, that whenever he scanned the horizon, it filled his vision with feedback. While his semblance was basically useless, and couldn't really see beyond 9 meters, it could still feel a bit further than that. Less of a radar system from that point on and more of a Geiger counter. Just a general feel for where something is coming from. Just incredibly influenced by how strong or weak emotions are, making it essentially pointless for discerning numbers. And currently, something or a bunch of somethings were so negative, it was making it hard for him to even see the full 9 meters. Which was incredibly weird, as there wasn't a single grimm in sight. Creatures that hunt and feed off of negativity, not attracted to so much negativity, that even a Creep could sense it from who knows how far away. That meant one of two things: either the grimm were currently eating the faces of whoever was in despair, or this was a project of Salem's. Or one of her lackey's. Dove really didn't care. And it wasn't likely to be a grimm feeding frenzy, cause the emotions were basically a constant suffering for the last 3 hours he had felt it, without any punctuations from people being hurt. He hunkered down in the snow, burying his arms and belly, leaving only his jagged armor back out of the snow, and focused. The pain wasn't ahead of him. It wasn't to his left or right. Didn't feel anything from behind him. Y-axis. No one looks up. Nothing above him. No Nevermore. Again, strange, only more confirmation to his second theory. That left… below him. Something below him was suffering. Not that it surprised him. Most villages outside major cities had gone or had been underground. Most grimm weren't designed for digging through snow or slush, and the choke points made it quite easy to defend. Against grimm. Fire bombings oven cooked citizens faster than anything else. Well, technically the people inside the bunkers died before they were even burned, but the point stands. Which either meant that the entrance was below him, buried, or it was a distance away, incognito. In order to figure out which one it was, he had to figure out what kind of facility this was. It had to be a facility if it was in the middle of the boonies, probably off most records, and was not interfered with by the grimm. Then again, most scumbags don't keep good records, bar the Atlassians. They kept perfect records of everything. It was actually kind of impressive how accurate the records were. Back to the matter at hand, it meant that it either was something to keep bottled up for long durations of time, or something they opened or closed often. It being a facility didn't knock either entrance method off the list. But the type of facility would. And if it was this concentrated in pain, it either was research, torture, or a prison of some sort. Probably a couple other things but Dove never claimed that he was smart. And if people wanted to receive additional clients, that would mean they would need a consistently easy entrance to find, otherwise the risks of transiting subjects would exponentially rise. Especially since the snow fields looked all the same. Literally. Dove had to go off Penny's word that they had actually left the Mint miles behind them, because all the scenery looked the same. With a quick swig from his canteen, Dove inched forward through the snow, keeping his profile low, and his gaze on the horizon.

* * *

"You ever wonder why we're here?"

"Why are we here in this valley, or in life? Because I can already feel you're going for an overused in joke that some people have memorized for the hell of it."

The guard took a drag from his cigarette as he leaned against the door frame. "You got me. Can you blame me though? It's boring as balls out here."

"Hey, they need bodies to do it. And we can avoid being bodies, we'll be the bodies they need."

"I guess so." A clump of ash dropped into the snow. "But don't you wish something interesting would happen, 432?"

"Hell no. Not in a thousand years do I want something like that to happen 437. The Salem shenaniganry is all the excitement I need in my life."

"Normally when one signs their life over to be a storm trooper, they expect to be killed off like a trooper, right? Then where the hell is anyone!"

432's visor-covered face turned to look at his partner. "You asking to be killed?"

"I'm just saying, it's boring."

"You know storm troopers are thought to be the bad guys, right? And are meant to be disposable?"

"Why do you think they gave us numbers?"

432 clicked his tongue. "Fair point."

"What do you think the rest of our series is doing?"

"The 430's?"

"Yeah. We ended up here. Where did the others go?"

"Probably other vaults. We were all security forces guys."

"And girls. 431 and 435 were girls."

432 looked over at 437 in disappointment. "We doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"It's the proverbial end of the world, and you're arguing about me misgendering my own battle buddies?"

"Technically, its not the end of the world for us." Smugly stated 437. "We joined the winning side."

"Eh, true. I guess we did."

437 tossed his cigarette into the snow. "You think people think we're cowards for choosing the winning side?"

"You think?"

"Yeah?"

"Apparently you don't," groaned 432. "Of course they do. They only think of themselves and their 'heroic' sacrifice they'll be able to make against great evil, when its just going to be them ripped apart by animals."

"Grimm."

One beat. Two beats. "What?"

"Grimm. Grimm will rip them apart. Grimm aren't animals."

"Why did they not terminate you in training?"

"Marksmanship scores."

"Fair enough," resigned 432.

"What did you mean by they only think of themselves?"

"Most people don't think about the repercussions it'll have on their family. Sure, you get to die and no longer deal with the consequences, but your family will be saddened, or have a target painted on their back for your rebellion against the higher order."

"What if you hate your family or your family hates you?"

"Family may still have target painted on them. But getting yourself killed by an agent of Salem still doesn't confirm their death if you really hate them."

"You're saying this like you have firsthand experience with the system." Hesitantly stated 437.

"I used the system to kill my ex-wife. She was a piece of work."

"Impressive." 437 checked his watch. "You didn't get in trouble for it?"

"Nope. She was sleeping with some rebellion insurgent or something, so helping firebomb the shelter was a nice change of pace."

"Wasn't she in prison when you joined?"

"Yeah. Was," groaned 432. "Past tense. Ruffians busted the prison to swell their ranks."

"Huh. Weird. Didn't hear about that."

"You don't hear about a lot of things if they don't want you finding out about it."

"Makes sense." 437 checked his pager for messages. "So, is that why you joined?"

"Nope. Joined for my kids."

"Don't think they'll be able to handle the transition to the new government?"

"I mean, most of the nation is in shambles, the scroll network is down, etc." 432 paused, and sighed. "But it's mostly for my son. He just idolized hunters so much, that if I didn't join, he might have been put on a watch list somewhere. Might be on one anyways."

"But if you work your way up the rank, you might be able to protect him."

"Pretty much."

"Don't you have a daughter as well?"

"Yeah. She'll be fine though."

"Don't you think that's a little neglectful of your daughter?"

"You've never met my daughter. She's doing fine. System's practically made for her."

"She takes after her mother?" Fielded 437.

"She takes after her mother, in the right ways. She still has her heart in the right place."

"Good to hear."

"Yep."

437 waited. And lit a new cigarette. And waited. "So, you going to ask me why I chose to join in?"

The answer ripped like a bullet. "No."

"How come? It's only common courtesy to show equal interest back."

"You either wanted some poon, or some booze."

"Ugh," stammered 437, voice laced with disgust. "You really think I'm that base of a creature?"

"We lived in the same hallway for 8 weeks. You knew I had a daughter already. I knew that you were no better than a monkey."

"That's racist."

"Not once have I mentioned race," deadpanned 432.

"You called me no better than a monkey."

"Are you a monkey? Did I call you one?"

"You called me no better than a monkey," said 437 with even more confidence.

"Okay. And?"

"That's racist."

"I'm not getting into this." 432 resumed staring into the horizon. "Sure. I'm racist."

"You're really not going to defend yourself?"

"There's no point." 432 pointed in the opposite direction he was looking. "Just cover that angle. Our job is to keep guard."

"Fine." 437 kneeled down behind his cement barrier. "You're no fun."

"I know."

"Don't sound so smug when you say it."

"Whatever. Just keep an eye out for movement."


	27. Day 27

A calm, cold January. A man, still dressed in his uniform, leaned back in the cold wooden shelter, as he finished reading the last acknowledgements of a memoir of sorts. The book returned to the cold shelf from which it came, as the man looked out the thick insulated window, out to the cold wastes outside. It was peaceful. Not a single person in sight. Was it sad that this was all the man needed in life to feel satisfied? No, he didn't think so. There shouldn't be anything wrong in enjoying the serene silence of the outdoors. It was beautiful to look at, and the silence only made the somber tones of the memoir all the more poignant. A touching memoir, and while he did not entirely agree with the author, it did not change the tones or the touch of the story. A grand daughter of a soldier in the Great Faunus war. Terrible atrocities had been committed, and for some belligerents, a sense of guilt was to be had. Coming to grips with the fact that yes, your grandfather fought and killed the enemy, for a cause that was not just, was something that some had to deal with, even if their hands had never held arms, or their eyes never bearing witness to the landscapes carved by the war. Even if they did not commit the atrocities themselves, were they still responsible? As a sergeant, the questions were all the more significant to him. Like an alarm waking one from a deep sleep, earned from a day of hard labor, a shot rang out and interrupted his musings.

He reached down and typed a simple code into his pager: report. Not the letters themselves, but a code agreed to beforehand. In response, a single hard knock echoed on the aging pine door. A nice touch for a homey environment. "Enter."

Swiftly opening and closing the door was a young man, barely in his mid-twenties, dressed from head to toe in an assortment of white garbs. A simple white helmet, with a white visor, milky, as to provide eye protection, while also matte, to prevent the reflection of light. While not the best for either appearances, or for vision, it was better than the black visor alternative, which was a dead give away in these frozen white wastes. The man snapped to attention, his boots throwing off bits of snow as the heels clicked together. "Sergeant, Private 437, reports as ordered," stated the man, as his gloved hands remained at his sides.

"At ease." The Private relaxed and let out a breath. The sergeant continued. "What does protocol state about firing rounds?"

"To not do it. Sergeant."

"At ease, private," waved the man. "I'm not like that. It gets in the way of the transfer of information."

"Understood," firmly stated the private.

The sergeant stood from his desk and pulled up a chair that was leaning on a wall. "Have a seat. Don't be so nervous. So tense. It's a beautiful day outside, don't you think?"

The sergeant was looming over the now seated private. "Yes. It is a beautiful day."

"And I personally think that part of its beauty is the silence." The man dramatically sighed, letting it linger in the air like a fog rolling in. "Why, oh why, did you ruin the beauty of today?"

"I saw movement sir."

"Please, I'm not your sir, or madam. I'm just a sergeant, who happens to be filling in for this week. No need to be so nervous." The sergeant's perfect teeth split his face. "Just tell me what scared you."

"I believed I saw movement sir and fired at it. This is a mistake on my end, and I should be held responsible for my mistakes."

"Did you hit it?"

"Hit the moving object?"

"Of course. I've heard great things about your tracking skills, both in the snow and with your sights." The sergeant's hands were gripping the back of the chair, so not a single hair was touching the private, but his figure seemed to surround him. "Why don't you show me some time."

"I hit the target. It was simple a shelf of snow that fell off due to the sun melting a portion of it."

"Interesting. Do keep me updated with any other snow bunnies you find."

"Yes sergeant."

The sergeant detached from the chair and gestured to the door. "Off you go." The private quickly vacated the room without doing the proper exit procedure. No matter. The chair was returned to its rightful place on the wall, and the sergeant returned to his own. There was nothing quite like discomfort. On that note, he turned to the window, and stared out into the abyss. And he waved.

* * *

Dove froze. He knew.


	28. Day 28

It had been a while. Sometimes self-pity was not the answer. Time was one thing, but too much time was another. Answers were required. A phone rang.

"Penny. Not. Now." Harshly whispered the stranger's voice.

If not now, then when? "Am I a joke?"

There was quiet. Rustling. "What?"

"Am I a joke?"

"No, I don't think you're a joke," sighed the stranger, obviously displeased with the fact that he had to deal with her. "But now is not the time."

"I did not ask if you thought I was a joke. I was asking if I was."

"Penny." The stranger swore under his breath. "Listen to me. Now is not the time."

But when? And then? She could feel herself falling apart. "Understood."

More rustling. She could not bring herself to look. She did not want to see the stranger. A person who was not. He spoke once more. "What's going on Penny? You almost got me killed."

"I apologize. However-"

"Good."

The phone buzzed.

* * *

**PP:** What am I?

**BW:** Are we seriously doing this?

**PP:** What am I?

**BW:** You're Penny.

**PP:** Who is Penny? What is it? Does it have a purpose? Is it a sad attempt by a lonely man to have progeny of his own? Or is it simply a weapon with no government left to wield it.

**BW:** Penny. Please.

**PP:** Please answer my questions.

**BW:** You're a good person.

**PP:** Does it have a purpose?

**BW:** Do any of us have a purpose?

**PP:** Machines are made with purposes. Machines are built to perform specific actions. A machine without a purpose is no more valuable than its weight in scrap. Am I scrap?

**BW:** You are not scrap, Penny. I don't know how your home situation was, but you're more than a machine.

**PP:** Am I? You say one thing, and then say another. You say many things.

**BW:** I don't know, not really. I don't know what you are, but I know what you're not. I know you're not a bad person. I know that you're lonely. I know that you are more than a weapon. I know that. I know that I got scared.

**PP:** That is not a confirmation of who I am.

**BW:** Because no one ever knows. Its what being human is. We define ourselves by what we like or don't like. Yet there is no ideal that is purely "us" which can be comprehended.

**PP:** Explain.

**BW:** Just because I can tell you exactly what I look like, what I like, dislike, do, have done, and haven't done, doesn't mean I know exactly who I am. I can't even say I'm a good person.

**PP:** With that much information, one should be able to explain who they are.

**BW:** Yet I can't. There are somethings you just don't, can't know.

**PP:** I am confused.

**BW:** Humans aren't simple. We behave on patterns, and yet we act unpredictably. We change how we act depending on those around us, and the daily reactions we have change with each passing thought. So no, Penny, you're not a joke. You're just lonely, and scared.

* * *

"Are you not?" Crackled her hoarse voice through the speaker. Dove bit his tongue. She continued. "Are you ashamed?"

"It's not shame." Hesitantly started Dove. "I. I don't want to mess this up. But I guess I can't."

"It is not all about you."

"I know that. But." Dove could feel his throat closing up.

"But you forgot how to trust."

"Oh, I can trust just fine."

"Can you?"

"Yes, I am capable of trust. I'm not some rampaging paranoid."

"Then why do you push me away? Do you not like me?" Dove could feel the innocence in her voice. It scalded him.

He waited. She waited. He could no longer wait. "I don't want you to like me."

"Why?"

"When I said that you have an expiration date, I meant me. I can only talk about myself. I'm a selfish bastard, who only thinks of himself, and what everything means to him, and no one else. I'm scared because I think others don't like me. I'm lonely because I'm scared. I'm scared because I'm paranoid, because I'm lonely. I'm my own grimm."

"You say that you only talk about yourself, but you talk to me."

"About myself! How does that change anything?" Pleaded Dove.

"About my future. While I do admit, you framed it in a way, so it is the absence of you which is important, you still focused on me. You don't want me to feel loss, do you?"

"Loss is healthy."

"Grief is healthy. Obsession with loss is not."

"Hey! Obsession with Loss is fine! It's a perfectly good meme!" Shouted a voice behind them. Dove swiftly turned around, and saw two guards partially entrenched in the snow, with their rifles pointed at them.

"Don't make any rash actions," commented the other one. "We've been asked to take you alive. However, if the need arises, we will shoot."

"I'm itching for a real person to shoot," moaned the first guard. "Ooooh~ I'm just looking for a reason to dump my magazine's content into a bunch of little holes."

Even if the second guard did not break his bearing, Dove could feel the man's enjoyment of life drain out of his body in that moment. He could empathize with that. "And I'm looking forward to not having to do paperwork for each bullet in the snow. Please finish up and come with us."

"Wait," said the first guard as he craned his neck to get a glimpse behind Dove. "Is that a scroll?"

"Appears so." Answered the other guard.

"And you're making calls on it?"

"Technically," answered Dove. "Sorry Penny, but it looks like we'll have to have this conversation at a later date."

"Did you just give yourself a death flag?" Droned the second guard.

"It appears so." Answered Penny. "I, myself, am not sure what his obsession with death is."

"I am not obsessed with death!"

"I am inclined to agree with you, phone voice." The second guard gestured with his gun. "Now, assuming you like this man, can you please convince him to come peacefully? Sergeant only wishes to have a talk with him."

"That weird guy in the cabin?"

The two guards looked at one another, nodded, and answered in perfect synchronization, "Yeah, he's the weird guy in the cabin."

"Good to know. Talk later Penny, hanging up now."

"Goodbye Dove. We do need to continue this talk."

* * *

Everything was in place. The gates were locked. The Major's water was refilled. The little one had received a new book. Now, if those two could do the bare necessity, then his day will have gone perfectly. It was all about the little victories. A solid knock resonated on the perfect pine door.

"Enter~" hummed the sergeant.

A helmeted head popped in. 432. His personal favorite. He appreciated the struggles of raising another's child. "We got him to come peacefully. Where do you want him?"

He hummed. Now normally, he wished to not waste time, the scene simply was not right. It was too dark outside. Not an idyllic meeting that the two should have. "Place him in one of the holding cells for the night. I simply cannot have a dignified meeting in this setting. The darkness makes it seem too much like an interrogation."

The man nodded. "Got it, taking him there then." The door closed for a good minute before it opened once more with all three of them. Oh, how he loved it when suspense had a happy ending. The first guard kept his rifle on the stranger at all times, while the other performed the simple rituals to enter the base: moving aside the carpet, opening the hatch, disabling the incendiary trap with his key, and descending into the darkness below. He had quite the day ahead of him. Lots to talk about.


	29. Day 29

He had always been one for patterns. Tropes. Stereotypes, if one wished to call it as such. A single overhead light, suspended from a chord, over a stainless-steel table. Two metal chairs, opposing one another. A door on both ends of the room. A dark and moist atmosphere. Just the way the movies liked it. Two men, two doors, two seats. The sergeant gestured to the seat across from him.

"Take a seat, good sir." Spoke the sergeant, words wisping away into the dark recesses of the room. The man before him took a seat, still fully dressed in his armor. Breathing evenly, but still on edge. How exciting. The sergeant took his own seat and hung his patrol cap on the corner of the table, leaving the guest to stiffen at the sight of his glorious, bald dome. "It's alright to ask. I can tell you mean no harm."

"What happened to your skull," breathed the scrap knight before him.

"Many things, many thoughts." Mused the sergeant, tracing his fingers over the thick, malformed scar that extended from his forehead to the nape of his neck. A filling for the bone and flesh that had been ripped away. "A bit of rebar. Just another chapter in what made me, me. You may call me Mr. Skink. What may I call you?"

The armored man ignored the hand Mr. Skink held out for him. "Mr. Bird. What's with the name? I thought all of you drones had numbers."

"We do. I just think mine is too impersonal. At least for conversation. We're not simply businessmen or soldiers, you know?" Mr. Skink put on the most convincing smile he could muster. "Speaking of conversation, don't you know it's a bit rude to not take off your headwear when talking face to face?"

"I don't need you remembering what I look like."

"Trust me, there are no cameras here. I've already told you the only lie I'll be telling you all day. Have some faith in me."

"You left me in a prison cell overnight." Aggressive. But calm. Intriguing.

"Oh, that room? Please, that's not a prison cell." Mr. Skink stood up. "Would you like something to drink? I had only just realized that we had not given anything for you to drink in there."

"What do you have." Go on. Leave your armor.

"Water. Tea. I've been saving some extraordinary tea for a scenario much like this. Please give me a moment. I cannot believe how careless I am." Mr. Skink quickly made his way to the door behind him and grabbed the pre-made tea from the hallway. Placing the small cups in front of each of them, he poured the tea from the kettle and held it up. "Cheers."

Mr. Bird clinked his glass with Mr. Skink's, and made no movement to drink it. Of course, he would not. His helmet was not removed yet. How very cautious of him. Mr. Skink took a sip of his own. It warmed his very being.

"Your tea is going to get cold if you keep staring at it with such an icy glare, don't you know, Mr. Bird? I would do no such thing as sully the tradition of teatime, even if I am so dreadfully out of practice with such a thing."

Mr. Bird undid his mask, and set it on the table, before dropping his mesh hood back. A stern face. What once most likely held baby fat, had been weaned of its tenderness and molded into the bones of a warrior. Mistrali eyes, closed but ever observant, it seemed. A shortly cut, chestnut head of hair. Mr. Bird blew on his tea calmly. Slowly. As if he himself was going through the motions of what he remembered, rather than what he had once done. He took a sip. His clenched eyes finally closed fully as he enjoyed his drink. "Thank you for the tea. It is quite nice."

"Think nothing of it. Basic hospitality," grinned Mr. Skink. "Now I understand that you wanted to hide your face, but I didn't think you were so polite that you felt that you had to hide your silky hair in order to save me the shame." Mr. Bird took another sip of his tea. "Nevertheless, that is not what we are here for is it? If I really wanted to have myself reassured on my appearance, I could always ask one of the privates."

"What are we here for? Why did you bring me here if you aren't going to kill me or lock me up."

"You see, I would like an outside perspective on a project I am pioneering. I know that you already must look down upon me with distain, as I am merely a puppet for some murderous queen in her attempts at spite. But I would still appreciate a point of view from someone outside the chain of command."

"Alright. What's the terms and conditions? You going to lock me up after this talk is done to prevent word from getting out, or what?" Calmly asked Mr. Bird. The tea must be very soothing. It was doing the trick for Mr. Skink at least.

"The terms and conditions are quite simple! We only tell one another the truth, and nothing but the truth, names notwithstanding. Client confidentiality is still important."

"Fair enough. What else?"

"I trust that I will only tell the truth. However, if you do not, I will ensure that you leave one of your belongings here for every lie that you tell me. Do not worry, I do not plan on keeping your belongings here till the end of time. You will be able to earn them back by doing favors for me."

"And what's stopping me from just leaving?" grunted Mr. Bird.

"The simple fact that there are approximately 2 guards for every prisoner here in this vault of sorts. While I have diagnosed that you are an armored, aura rich warrior, one can only handle 120 rounds per minute for so long." Mr. Bird grunted in understanding. "Fantastic. We will be open with one another and tell each other what the other knows. However, nothing we know about the other will leave this room."

"And how do you ensure that I don't sell your state secrets?"

"Because we have trust." Calmly stated Mr. Skink as he took another refreshing sip of tea. "Something you currently lack with the few in your life. If you lack it with the few, how can you expect the many to believe you?"

Mr. Bird's jaw clenched. Excellent. Right on the head. "So, what do I gain from this? How can I be open if there is no mutual benefit?"

"If all goes well, you leave. No conditions, no terms, nothing. In fact, I'll give you some tea in a thermos. I want you to be as open as possible to make our time together an enjoyable episode in both of our lives."

Another sip. He will need a refill soon. "Fine. Terms are agreeable. You mind if I ask my question first?"

"Go ahead. In fact, and on off system would work excellently here!"

"So, how do you have the authority to make these calls? Isn't there an officer here who reports directly up the chain to one of Salem's agents?" Asked Mr. Bird with skepticism. Healthy skepticism.

"Oh, the Major." Mr. Skink smiled a knowing smile as he refilled both of their glasses with tea. "I trimmed his fingertips. He's not able to open his room. As the next in charge, I've been running the base in his stead. I told the others that he is simply under the weather at this time."

"And why?"

"Because I did not approve of the way he managed the guests and their baggage. So instead of being transferred, I assumed control, and decided that now was as good of a time to do some experimentation while I have the freedom to do so."

"And the experiment is what you wish to talk to me about."

"Precisely! I knew you were a smart young lad!" Mr. Skink sighed, smile not leaving his face for a breath. "Say, young man, do you have a semblance?"

"I do."

"Quite the peculiar things, don't you think? I don't have personal experience with one, so I wouldn't know. I only know from a third-party view," smiled Mr. Skink solemnly.

"I am not an expert on them either," sighed Mr. Bird. "I got a rather garbage one."

"Now, don't say that. It has to have its uses!" Mr. Skink took a sip of his tea through his teeth. "So. What is it?"

"Grimm Vision. It's what I've dubbed it. Allows me to sense the world in a way that a grimm does."

"How clever! While, admittedly not useful for the plans I have, its no loss on my end, as I never planned on keeping you here."

"That, and what use does an organization that controls the grimm have for someone who happens to be able to see like them?"

"Exactly!" Mr. Skink could only barely hold in his laugh. "You are quite the fellow, Mr. Bird."

"Appreciate the sentiments, as wrong as they may be."

"Do not worry about such things! You are who you are. No need to hold yourself to some paladin's sense of justice. We are all capable of being the next revolutionary."

"Really? How so?" Smirked Mr. Bird.

"History has a habit of cycling, because people either forget the past and let it repeat, or focus so much on their own mistakes, they do not see the symptoms of the past in their neighbors. Not that you can always do anything about it." Quick sip of tea, followed by dramatic pause, like in the picture shows. "And so, history repeats. Again, and again. My working hypothesis is that this is not the first time that Salem has won."

Mr. Bird looked intrigued. Invested. How delightful. "Really? How come?"

"How many of us do you know actually chisel our pasts into stone anymore? How many cities are wiped clean with no trace left behind? How many years of our history is unaccounted for?"

"Not many, actually."

"But before that? Before the books? Before text?"

"Okay, maybe not all of it." Admitted Mr. Bird. "But we have fossils."

"And so many are beyond our grasp due to grimm. But like the cycling of seasons, winter becomes spring again. The Sun re-emerges from its dark rest. Everything continues as it once did. The spat continues, and no one is left satisfied."

"So, we're just collateral in the world's messiest break-up."

"One could boil down our recent history to those terms, yes."

"Man, we are just in the arse end of history right now, aren't we?"

"Most likely," grinned Mr. Skink. Mr. Bird was quite the talker. "But back to topic. You used your semblance to feel the negativity? How does that work? I am not a connoisseur of grimm."

"At close ranges, it's like being able to see through walls. Longer ranges reduces it to a Geiger counter."

"And it measures concentrated madness, despair, etcetera?"

"Yep. Filled up my whole vision when I got here."

"I'll work on that. Trust me."

"Aren't you running a prison? Why would you want them to not be miserable?" Snarked Mr. Bird.

"I have my reasons that I will get to. Besides, it is not a prison, but a vault." Mr. Skink refilled both of their glasses again. "Any other notable signs that exposed our vault?"

"Yeah, actually. Lack of roaming grimm."

"That is something I will have to address on my own. Not much I can do about that at this time."

"Makes sense. So why are you asking about semblances?"

"I find them interesting," smiled Mr. Skink. "You ever notice how some are eerily similar, and some are even genetic?"

"I have."

Mr. Skink leaned closer to Mr. Bird, close enough to see the texture on his teeth. "What if we could replicate them?" Mr. Skink snapped back into his seat. "I'm using the royal we, of course."

Mr. Bird looked at Mr. Skink suspiciously. "What do you mean?"

"What if one could turn an individual's semblance into their family's semblance. A semblance is the expression one's soul, is it not?"

"Supposedly."

"And if one's soul identifies as part of their family; their soul has their family's semblance. Like the Schnee's."

"Like the Schnee's." Mr. Bird took a long sip of his tea. "So, you're proposing to make favorable semblances into hereditary ones, so they can be mass produced?"

"Precisely! Oh, you are such good fun! A powerful semblance under our control is oh so difficult."

"So, you didn't come for an outside prospective? You came to express your, quote unquote, genius idea to an unbiased audience and check for their reaction."

"And you've figured me out. Fantastic deduction skill Mr. Bird. Round of applause." Mr. Skink clapped his black leather gloves together.

"Frankly, not a big fan of it, as it implies eugenics."

"Oh, that is simply because it was bastardized in the great wars. A term used against its own good." Another knowing smile. "Not that it isn't eugenics. It is just impartial to any race, and specifically towards semblances which would be widely useful."

"And let me guess, you just have guys here and need to find a way to get it kick started, cause even the big bad Salem won't promote eugenics?" Oh, how smug of him.

"I believe she is against the incessant breeding of humans overall. Possibly jealousy. Being an immortal does limit your ability to produce offspring, I hear. Much to the contrast of the respawning wizard."

"What now?"

"The husband's semblance is to be a literal parasite and attaches itself to young boys like a priest. It then takes over their lives and pretends it is them, and that their old memories are not moot. Quite disturbing, really. But I did discover one thing from my studies."

"And that is?"

"He cannot attach to those who have already unlocked their aura. If your soul is already free, he cannot latch on and hijack what kind of soul you would have. Or at least, this is my clearance allows me to understand."

"This is far more clearance than I think a sergeant should have."

"Because I'm using the Major's clearance for research." Mr. Skink peeled off his black leather glove, revealing a human skin glove underneath. Mr. Bird's face was horrified. "While I could have simply cut them off, it is so much harder to hide a human hand in your trousers." And the glove went back on. "And unlike what you said earlier, I already have started. One of the subjects have a daughter already, and if I can raise her to idolize her father, identify his semblance with being part of his family, unlock said semblance, then I have enough evidence to apply for additional funding."

"And if she doesn't?"

"Then I'll let her do as she wishes. I'm not going to keep her for the rest of her life or kill her. She did not do anything to warrant such a treatment."

Mr. Bird was visibly bothered by this. By his next questions. He could see him mulling them over on his tongue. "And is this prison all male?"

"It is. You're wondering about how I will continue tests, aren't you? What a dirty mind." Mr. Skink smiled. "That's manning's problem. Once I get approval, I only have to get some results, positive or negative."

"So that is how it is." Mr. Bird sighed. "I should have expected something like this."

"You really should have," smiled Mr. Skink. "It really should have been done earlier, if we're being honest." Another sip of tea through grinning teeth, eyes burrowing into Mr. Bird. "So, my turn. Who were you talking to on your scroll?"

"A friend."

"The scroll networks are down, Mr. Bird. Now what was going on?"

"I was listening to an automated message. A recording, of sorts." Calm. Deliberate. Ultimately pointless, no matter how he wished to twist it.

"Now that is a rather rude thing to say to… Penny, was it?" Mr. Skink could feel the corners of his smile tickling his ears. "May I talk with her?"

"I don't have her with me at this time."

"Time is no matter. May I talk with her?"

"It's not part of the agreement." Snapped Mr. Bird.

"And neither was you lying. I will brief you tomorrow on the favor I would like completed. During the time it takes you to complete the favor, I will be having a similar talk with your friend Penny." Mr. Bird drew his sword. Mr. Skink smiled all the larger. "Now, do you really think you will be able to break my aura, and kill me before I can make it into the hall? It is right behind me, after all."

Mr. Bird sheathed the sword. "I'll be back where I was. If you could get me some food, that would be kind of you."

What a good day. "Of course. Thank you for your company, and rest tight, Dove."


	30. Day 30

Penny was not sure what to do at this time. Dove was throwing a tantrum in the corner of the room they were provided, and apparently, he had been burned for acting as he always does. Again. Apparently, fire is hot. Very good information for her to know. However, he was almost rabid again. He had spent most of last night explaining how nefarious and evil this Mr. Skink was, and how he had to do something to get out of here. Breaking her free from her thoughts was a single, sturdy knock on the door.

"May I come in?" Asked the polite voice on the other side.

"What do you think!" Frothed Dove.

The man known as Mr. Skink opened the door and pushed aside the blade aimed at his face. "A yes, as you must be practicing your swings for your favor."

"Why would I?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

"Because I have no plans on supporting a puppet of Salem."

"What have we said about lying?" Calmly smiled Mr. Skink. "You do what is best for you, not what is best for any tribe. You are simply upset, though I cannot understand the reason why."

"It is because he never wants to compromise." Droned Penny. She had seen enough.

"Penny, stay out of this," barked Dove. "This doesn't concern you.

"But it does. Or do you think you can make all the decisions?" Smirked Mr. Skink.

"I will protect her from you. I will cut you down if you attempt to take her."

Mr. Skink merely smiled and pulled a thick folder from inside his coat. "Here is the man I would like you to kill for the favor. A leader of a resistance pocket not far from here. Please, and thank you."

"You're ignoring me." Claimed Dove, cracking his voice in the process. "You're ignoring me, and you're not taking me seriously at all." Dove's sword hovered closed enough to the smile of Mr. Skink that one could imagine him flossing with the tip.

"And you are ignoring her." Mr. Skink slid out a revolver from the folder and aimed it at the server in which Penny resided. "Now, you have a choice, as you seem to like it when your choices are limited. Run me through, and I shoot your friend. Or you take the folder, do the favor, and leave with your friend in about a day or two's time. You think that is fair?"

Dove clenched his teeth and started to steam. However, a voice spoke up. "You simply want him to do a favor for you because you believe he was being evasive with some of his answers?"

"Indeed, disembodied voice," sighed Mr. Skink. "I simply wanted to have a civil conversation with you, and he couldn't trust either of us to do that much."

"What, no- I." Stammered Dove.

"I understand," cut in a level-headed Penny. "And in order to have this conversation with me, you plan on ensuring that he is out of position for the duration of the talk. Is this correct?"

"Most definitely!" Said Mr. Skink. Penny found the smile on Mr. Skink's face disconcerting. Then again, she had yet to see the man do anything but smile. "Would you like to lay the details of this agreement?"

"No, you can't. You can't trust him," raved Dove. "You can't defend yourself. How can you!"

Ignoring Dove, Penny continued. "Dove does this favor, and you and I can have a talk. Same terms as Dove's conversation. No property is to be permanently dispossessed, and no harm will be committed against either party as a result of the talk. Agreeable terms, Mr. Skink?" Dove looked back at Penny, betrayed.

"Agreed."

"Are you going to holster your weapon, Mr. Skink?" Asked Penny.

"Once the third party takes his end of the agreement, I will do so."

"Penny, no. He wears people's hands, Penny. He's insane. How can you? You won't be safe with him!"

"She will."

"Skink, you have your weapon pointed at her." Pointed out Dove. "You are already threatening her well-being. What's preventing you from destroying or keeping her once I leave. What's preventing you from killing me out there, and leaving her in your hands, for the rest of time."

"An agreement between fellows. I give my word."

"As I give mine," announced Penny.

"Penny, you can't defend yourself. You're just a box. What does your word even mean when you literally cannot act! You're not able to defend yourself!"

"Dove, stop it! You keep going back and forth! You are a hypocrite! I am both too weak and need defending, and then you go and put me into a scenario where I am apparently required to be defended from your pride. In your eyes, I am both too sensitive, and must be weaned off of your presence before you die, and yet, you make it so I can only interact with you. You want everything to go the way you want it. And you put everything else second." Had Penny a body, she would be trembling.

Dove mulled over the words his friend spoke. His eyes lost in thought. The smirk of Mr. Skink, knowing that he did not even need to act in order to sow such chaos. A bystander that simply enjoyed the show more than he most likely should have. Eyes refocused and stared down teeth. "You planned this, didn't you?" Dove accused.

Mr. Skink snorted. "I don't know. If I did, I must be smarter than I thought."

"Dove." Called Penny, snapping the tension in the room. "If you do not go now, I will ask to be relieved of your company."

The sword was lowered, and a pair of lost eyes looked at a camera lens. "What?"

"I believe we both need some time. Do the favor. As unfavorable or favorable Mr. Skink is, please act on his behalf. If not, I will voluntarily remain here, in the custody of Mr. Skink."

"You can't do that?"

"Why can I not?" Dove was at a loss for words. Documents were placed onto his hands. Penny continued. "Please. I want to continue being friends. But we cannot continue as we are."

Dove closed his eyes and sheathed the sword. He grabbed the folder, and briskly walked out of the room. Mr. Skink's smile never left his face. "Very nice. Let us begin. I am Mr. Skink. What should I call you?"

"Penny."

"What is the hesitance, Penny?"

"You threatened me and forced me to take control of the situation."

"Don't worry," Hummed Mr. Skink, as he slid the cylinder out of position and showed the six empty slots to Penny. "But I must ask, how did it feel? Taking control. Resuming agency."

She was not going to lie. "It was something I have been unable to do for the last few days." Penny admitted. "Thank you."

Mr. Skink tucked the empty revolver back into his belt. "You are most certainly welcome."

Here goes nothing. "What is it that you would like to talk about with me?"

"Would you like to go for a walk?"

"What do you mean by this?"

"I put you on my back, as I walk down the hall. We talk and walk, as fellows." Mr. Skink was either genuine, or very good at imitating genuinity.

"Yes, I would like a walk."

"Good, because there is a very large distance from the entrance and the actual holding areas. Maybe you can tell me about how the two of you met during the walk."

* * *

Dove hated this. What else was there for him to do. He read the files again and again. Surprisingly complete record for a leader of a resistance pocket. Windbag was the target. At least that was the codename Skink gave him. Just get in and get out. After almost a day of walking either way. How could she. He was just trying to protect her, and she reacts like this. Maybe he should just leave her.

Dove stopped in his tracts, looking at the sun on the horizon, snow up to his thighs. Do that and he'd be no better than them. Cowards. Bitter. Not willing to fight till the end. Not willing to fight, period. Not willing to defend those who even dared to question them. Was Dove a coward, a worm, like them? Probably. But was it his fault that others always chose to be martyrs? Was it his fault that he defended his section, even as others fell around him? He wasn't a god. He wasn't perfect. And neither were his judgements. Maybe, just maybe, Penny was right. Not the first time she would be. Not sure why he was so surprised. Maybe it was because he had to defend her now. Not that it should have changed anything. He thought he left it behind, and yet here it was, raising its deformed, cancerous head in attempt to mock him. His pride. Darn. He still didn't fully understand, but maybe he could get some time to himself to think about it. On the way back that is. For now, he had to find a way to circumnavigate 'Windbag's' semblance.


	31. Day 31

For all intents and purposes, one could not label Mr. Skink as evil or as good. Mr. Skink was rather receptive to her point of view and how she felt for the last few weeks. He was a good listener, and very polite. However, Mr. Skink had aberrant ideas and plans, which often involved involuntary breeding of humans as if they were racehorses. While the ideas technically had merit, she was not quite able to condone them.

"If I am understanding this correctly," began Mr. Skink as he continued trucking down the hall, "you do appreciate Mr. Bronzewing, and the company he provides you, but you wish that he did not feel as if he had to defend you as if you were a lesser?"

"Affirmative."

"Have you informed him of this?"

"I believe I have not," admitted Penny.

Mr. Skink hummed. "The basis of all relationships is conversation. Communication. If one does not communicate, then the relationship is most likely to remain in stasis, or more likely, degenerate. I feel as if you often talk at one another, but not to each other."

"I talk to him," stated Penny defensively.

"You say that, and yet this is a problem which was brought to the surface by the involvement by a third party, namely, me." Mr. Skink paused to take a sip from his thermos. "While yes, I did manipulate both parties and exacerbate any issues between you two, these problems were already underlying issues in your relationship. You often feel as he does not give you the respect you deserve and feel as if he is overbearing. He feels stressed for having to provide for you both, and both wants to have companionship, and is afraid of causing loss."

"He did say that it was likely that he would not live out to see the end of the year." Amended Penny. "It is most likely that he wants to not be alone, yet, he does not want me to be attached."

"Precisely. Unfortunately, human relations do not work in that fashion. You cannot have it both ways, and compromise and cooperation are necessary to make relations of any kind work."

"Cooperation? How so?"

Penny could feel Mr. Skink smile at the question, much like a teacher humoring a student for having an interest in the subject matter, no matter how ignorant they may be. "Compromise has the slight issue where it leaves one, if not both parties feeling as if they are not fulfilled. Cooperation is where you both make it very clear what you desire, and instead of chipping away at each other's plans and objectives to make room for both plans and objectives, you make a new plan. You hybridize your objectives and make a plan which is mutually beneficial for both of you. In the process, you have a bonding process, as well as it leaves both parties feeling equally fully satisfied."

Penny resonated with that. It made sense. Alone, a person was not very strong, but together, they could do more than the labor of two. "Thank you."

"Any time Penny. Thank you for telling me your life story and hearing out my short terms plans." Mr. Skink unraveled his black glove and pressed his weathered flesh glove against the scanner. The scanner beeped, and a lock was undone. "I have a few people I would like you to meet. Would you be as kind as to not tell Dove about them?"

"Of course. How come?"

"They are, how do I say this, most likely things that he would be sensitive about."

"And why do you feel as if you can tell me?"

"Partially, it is because you are much more receptive to non-antagonistic conversations. However, it is also because you are a box, and pose no threat to them, my plans, or me."

There it was. She was still not a threat. Not that she should be, but at least Mr. Skink was kind enough to be upfront with it. "Understood."

"Thank you for not being offended." Mr. Skink closed and ensured the door was locked behind them. "She'll probably be here soon enough."

Within 15 seconds of the door clicking shut, Penny could hear the pitter-pat of little feet running down the hall. A small girl dressed in an oversized shirt and pajama pants, with long, dark black hair, and the most vivid blue eyes launched herself headfirst into the stomach of Mr. Skink. "Mr. Skink! You're back!"

Mr. Skink grunted as he caught her and spun. After a few rotations, he set the little girl down again. "That I am little one. Today I brought a guest. Would you like to say 'hi' to the guest?"

With a massive smile, the girl bellowed out, "Hi, nice to meet you! My name is Ash!" She then paused as she looked around. "Mr. Skink, don't tell me its one of your imaginary friends again."

Mr. Skink laughed at the pouting face of the little girl. "Of course not." He unclipped the scroll from his vest and handed it over to the little girl. "Be careful. If you pull out the chord, she can't talk to us. Okay?"

Ash's greedy palms grabbed at the scroll. "Okay! Hi there!"

"Hello." Greeted Penny. "My name is Penny. Nice to meet you Ash."

Ash looked up at Mr. Skink with sparkles in her eyes. "Woah. How are you doing that! How is she doing that! What is this Mr. Skink!"

"Why don't you ask her?" Gently guided Mr. Skink.

"Uh, Penny, how are you doing this?"

"I am-" started Penny, before she was cut short by Mr. Skink. Surprisingly rude on his end.

"Now hold on Penny, she didn't say please."

"Ah, really Mr. Skink?"

"Really really. You need to be polite and respectful with guests."

"Fine, Mr. Skink." Groaned Ash. "Penny, can you please tell me how you are speaking through this box? I've never seen anything like this before."

Penny could forgive Mr. Skink for his rudeness for these few moments. "I am speaking to you through a scroll."

"So, this is called a scroll?" chirped in Ash. "Cool."

"Now, now, little one. Let her finish." Admonished Mr. Skink.

"It is quite alright Mr. Skink. She is simply excited." Explained Penny. It was simply adorable. "It is called a scroll. While rare nowadays, these devices used to allow individuals to communicate over long distances."

"So, you're calling from outside the Keep?" Excitedly asked the young girl. She could not have been older than 6.

"Unfortunately, that is no longer possible due to the climate outside." Not entirely accurate, but not wrong either. "I am calling you from the box on your father's back."

The girl looked at the scroll weirdly. "Mr. Skink isn't my dad."

"Apologies. However, I am the box on his back."

Ash followed the chord from the scroll to the server tower being carried by Mr. Skink. "That's okay. Other people have thought that I was Mr. Skink's daughter." She poked the box. "You're in here?"

"Technically yes, but I would like to ask you to not poke so recklessly."

"How come?" Asked Ash.

Mr. Skink's gloved fingers found their way under the arm of Ash, poking her in the ribs repeatedly, tickling her mercilessly. "This is why! Let's see you poke now!"

Ash could only squeal in bursts of giggles and scampered away from the relentless fingers of Mr. Skink. "That wasn't fair Mr. Skink!"

"Were you going to continue poking her?" Smirked Mr. Skink.

"No." Stated Ash with as stubborn of a gaze a 6-year-old could muster.

"Tell the truth."

"I wasn't going to."

"C'mon."

"I wasn't!" Screamed Ash.

"The Gobbley-Goop." Mr. Skink's hand started imitating a mouth, and imitated moving closer to Ash.

"No. Mr. Skink. I wasn't!"

"The Gobbley-Goop." Mr. Skink too another step closer.

"I! Wasn't!"

"The Gobbley-Goop." Only one more step, and Mr. Gobbley-Goop would be upon her.

"No~" whined Ash. "I promise!"

"The Gobbley-Gooo-" Mr. Skink lunged forward, and Ash squealed as she dropped backwards, landing harshly on her butt on the hard cement floor. However, Mr. Gobbley-Goop did not take prisoners, and tickled her mercilessly on the floor. "-ooooop!" Mr. Skink stood up, brushed himself off, and helped Ash up off the floor. "So, were you?"

Ash looked off to the side, with an utterly guilty look on her face. "Yeah."

"What have I said about lying?"

"I'm sorry." Earnestly apologized Ash.

"That's not what I've said."

Ash thought a moment. "You said to not do so."

"Exactly. Good girl."

"I won't do it again Mr. Skink. Promise."

"Don't promise, if you're going to do so again."

"I won't!"

"You will need to do so again eventually. Never say that you won't do something. Okay?"

Ash seemed confused but nodded along. "Yes Mr. Skink."

"Very good." Mr. Skink smiled. "Now be honest, have you been trying to sneak your father parts of your meal?"

"I don't like the seal. It's too fatty!" Complained Ash.

"Now now, little one, you need to eat up to grow up big and strong to take care of your father, you know?"

"Yes Mr. Skink."

"Speaking of your father, do you think he's well enough to meet Penny?"

Ash thought for a moment. "I think so. Follow after me Penny."

"You don't know where it is?" Asked Penny into the ear of Mr. Skink.

"I do. She just likes screening anyone who meets him. Who am I to stop her from having her fun?"

The three of them walked down the hall until they reached a plated metal door. The little girl heaved the door open, and the three entered a dark padded room, with an internal chamber, separated by a thick plastic window. The little girl pulled open the second door as well and called out into the darkness, "Daddy, Mr. Skink is here to visit you!"

An inhuman moan echoed in the darkness. A sob mixed with a groan.

"Penny, this is Prisoner 003. Prisoner 003, this is Penny." Introduced Mr. Skink.

"Hello, Prisoner 003. It is nice to meet you." Greeted Penny.

A moan was given in return.

"Would you like me to call you something other than 003?"

A sob this time.

"He can't talk. His last caretaker did a number on him." Mr. Skink commented quietly. It was the slightest she had ever seen his smile.

"How so?"

"She removed three of his limbs and his tongue." Mr. Skink's words hovered with the fog in the air. Hot breath, gently dissipating in the cold.

"She was a meanie." Added Ash.

"She was indeed."

* * *

Flynt Coal. The ID card was slipped back into a small black wallet and placed back onto the desk. Dove had no idea who this guy was before the resistance, but he probably wasn't that important. Especially since the profile that Mr. Skink had on him essentially meant that this was all an inevitability. You can't have people finding out your semblance, friends, common routes, or even your favorite foods without knowing that they might use them against you. Sneaking in had been surprisingly easy, but everyone was just a bit uneasy, making it easy for Dove to feel out the patrols when they got near. No alarms, and Mr. Coal would die in his sleep. Better than what most of them got nowadays. Did Dove feel guilty about this? He honestly didn't know. The man was a dead man walking. He was just expediting it without crushing this cell. Good things in his book.

It didn't take long. While a bit unsavory, beheading always did the trick. No chance of surviving with brain damage, or someone healing them at the last moment with some baloney semblance. He knew he couldn't take the whole head back with him as evidence. So, he took the man's blue ring, the cat bell in his pocket, and his room key. After feeling for a patrol, Dove locked the door behind him and started making his way back.


	32. Day 32

Fear. It could smell it. Scampering in the snow, moving running, screaming. Not that it actually was, it was quietly screaming, internally panicking. It sloshed through the snow with its thick legs, grinding its face through pounds and pounds of snow, slogging up a hill towards the little white furball. The rabbit was so panicked, there was no way the little Creep could sense anything else with this creature here. It would eat it. Not that it really needed to, as the Creep technically sustained off of hatred itself, but the taste of blood in its mouth was quite enjoyable. Each foot forward was an arduous journey, and eventually the panic in the rabbit turned into a smug pride. It looked down upon the Creep, continuing to dash up the hill, its light footprints dotting the snow. It screeched to a halt, when the hill ended in a sheer cliff, and started to swing its course to its flank. A distance in which the Creep could heave itself forward and catch it. Crush it. Grind its bones between its teeth and silence its internal screaming. Its screaming was so very loud. So very annoying. The Creep's thick trunk like legs sunk into the snow, gaining distance on the small mammal. Step by step by step. Until a step became a lurch, as the Creep felt its foot punch through the snow, and an ominous cracking filled the air. The creature was panicking more than ever. The snow mound before the Creep was falling forward, bringing the ball of fear down and away from it. The entire top quarter of the hill ruptured and slid away from the creep towards the depression in the landscape. Down, down it went. The Creep could only look in awe at the change in the landscape that a creature running amok could cause, what it could cause. It was almost serene.

* * *

Dove trudged through the snow. Going downhill was always faster than uphill. Would be nice if the desert could remain flat, but you can't always get what you want. An ominous cracking filled the air, and he scanned to see how much time he had to prepare. It turned out to be all the time in the world, as it was a small hill, off to his right which had begin to crumble. Dove could feel negativity from his right. Quite a bit, but nothing like actual dread. More like simple instinctual fear. Probably a rabbit.

* * *

It could taste the fear. It barely scurried out of the snow before the Creep was bearing down on it. Only a few more feet, and it would finally achieve silence. The Creep would finally get what it wanted before it eventually was snuffed, even if it was just for a moment. The Creep lunged forward. It launched like a log through the air. A pair of talons picked up the rabbit. The Creep slammed into the snow, belly first. It grunted, as it turned towards the sky as the rabbit was carried away. Maybe this was why grimm existed. To be spited again and again. To be miserable and take their misery out on others. Being a Creep was probably the worst thing to be.

* * *

Dove looked through his binoculars and saw the catastrophe that was that grimm's existence. It was good to know that he wasn't the unluckiest thing on the continent. Maybe things wouldn't be that bad after all.


	33. Day 33

His feet were unbearably sore. Every step was a struggle, and he knew how much of a problem it was going to be once he got the server tower back on. Was he wearing a ridiculous amount of armor? Probably, but its better to have your armor break before your aura. The two guards watched as Dove crested the hill, slowly, heaving and steaming the whole way.

"So, have a nice walk out there?" Snarked the guard Dove had come to know as 437.

"Yeah." Panted Dove. "Can't wait to keep walking."

The guard known as 432 unlocked the door behind him and opened it. "What kept you?"

"Hill."

"Ah." With that, the two resumed their post.

Dove stumbled in the room, accidentally interrupting a civil conversation between Penny and Mr. Skink. The two went silent, as Mr. Skink looked pleased to see him. "Welcome back Mr. Bird. How did it go?"

Dove dropped the ring and bell on the table. "I did your favor." With that, Dove fell backwards onto one of the seats.

"I see." Mr. Skink picked up the ring, holding it to the light as he analyzed it. "Thank you."

"So, why'd you have me do it?" Wheezed Dove. "Just because?"

Mr. Skink set down the ring and hummed. "Somewhat. I just didn't like him."

"Wait, doesn't that mean you've had to have met him before?"

"Take it as you will. You have his file." Mr. Skink paused. "Or at least most of it." Mr. Skink pulled out a single page from the desk and slid it across. "Here is the missing page. Read it at your leisure." Dove reached for the page, and his eyes glazed over the pages. "Aren't you forgetting someone?" Reminded Mr. Skink.

"Welcome back Dove." Gently prodded Penny. "Glad to see you again."

"Good to see you too," panted Dove. "Just give me a moment."

"While he's recovering, do remember what we talked about, Penny. I hope you enjoyed our time together as much as I did." Gently smiled Mr. Skink.

"I will. Thank you for your hospitality. Best wishes, Mr. Skink." Sincerely responded Penny.

"And with that, I think now would be a good time for me to pick her up and leave." Dove paused as he lurched from his seat. "If that's fine with you, Penny."

"That is quite alright Dove. We are already saying our goodbyes." Calmly stated Penny. "However, thank you for asking."

Dove simply grunted as he strapped the server back onto his back, Mr. Skink smiling, watching, doing nothing to help. "Welp. Mr. Skink, I hope I never see you again."

Mr. Skink sipped from his thermos. "Understandable. Safe travels."

Dove closed the door behind him and started slogging his way out of the divot where the cabin was. It was a few minutes before anyone spoke again.

"How are your feet holding up?" Asked Penny.

"They're… not great." Dove panted. "Still not fully used to it."

"Understandable." The sun dove its course through the sky, and the two pushed through the dimming sky.

Dove broke the silence. "You waiting for an apology?"

"No. I understand more about why you did what you did." Explained Penny. "I do not fully agree, but I understand. I appreciate the thoughts behind your actions, even if they actions were unkind."

Dove took a swig of his canteen to wash down whatever it was that welled up in his throat. "Thanks."

"No problem." The two enjoyed the silence for a bit. There was something wholesome about the sunset reflecting off of the snow. "You going to rest soon? I would not want you to overexert yourself."

"Maybe. I'm just walking."

"To where?"

Dove stopped and shifted his angle a bit. "You ever see the ocean, Penny?"

"From afar, but not in person." Penny admitted.

"You want to see it?"

"I think so."

"I bet you would love it. Russel did."


	34. Day 34

Dove was exhausted. Tired. Probably a little hungry, but she didn't need to know. With the server resting on a tarp nearby, Dove was laying staring at the stars. It was sometimes easy to forget how bright the stars seemed in the dead of night. He definitely didn't notice when the lights were still on.

"Hey Penny?"

"Yes Dove?"

"What did you two talk about? You seemed to have a good time with him?"

Dove could hear her smugness. He wasn't aware that computers could be smug. "Why do you ask? Are you feeling jealous?"

"No, I'm not feeling jealous." Yawned Dove. "I just want to know about what happened."

"Am I allowed to ask what happened during your excursion?"

"Yeah. I killed a guy." Deadpanned Dove.

Penny paused. "Is that all?"

"Pretty much."

"Oh." Penny remained silent for a bit. "Mr. Skink gave me some advice."

"Like what?"

"How to maintain relationships with give and take, and things of the sort. Told me that there is not a point in being unhappy."

"Is that why he's so damn smiley all the time?"

"That might be brain damage." Replied Penny. "I am not sure how much of his behavior is deliberate or is because of physical brain trauma."

"Makes sense." Mused Dove. "Anything else?"

"He showed me the prisoners. One of them has a daughter."

"Ah jeez. What is he doing to them? Keeping them strapped up in stables?"

"The cells are much more akin to the chambers in a sanitorium." Informed Penny. "Not that most of them need it."

"You say this like there's a lot there."

"It is the male counterpart to the type of prison this is."

"So, there's one of just females? Is this a prison or…?"

"It is more akin to a vault of semblances that are useful. POW camps, essentially."

"Makes sense." Nodded Dove. "How was the daughter treated?"

"Quite well, surprisingly. She seemed to be very attached to both Mr. Skink and her father, as debilitated as he was."

"How debilitated are we talking about?"

"Enough so that the prisoners can be more easily classified as rucksacks rather than humans." Winced Penny.

"Oh wow. Damn. Mr. Skink's doing?"

"No. He claims their previous owners did the damage to them."

"Weird." Dove really wasn't sure how to feel about this other than uncomfortable. "So how many were there?"

"Three."

"So how many females per male?"

"I did not ask. But I am glad that you apparently have the time to think of such fantasies."

"C'mon, Penny." Groaned Dove. "I'm a healthy young man. What's the matter with thinking about the fairer sex from time to time?"

"How old are you?"

"Think like 26, 28? You lose track of the years without a calendar and shifting between seasonal cycles."

"You are nearly a middle-aged man. Is it really proper of you to be thinking in this manner?"

"One, I'm definitely past middle-aged," corrected Dove. "Average life-span has dropped like a rock. And two, when have I been proper?"

"I am concerned and upset that I find no flaws in your argument."

"Welcome to living with me!"

"Go to sleep Dove."

"You can't make me."

"No, I don't think I can make you." Penny sighed. "However, I can ask you to please take care of yourself."

"What makes you think that's going to work?"

"Because you're too selfish to do otherwise."

"I. Uh." Dove was at a loss for words. "Darn."

"Pleasant dreams Dove."

"Electric sheep, Penny."


	35. Day 35

Penny understood that she did not know everything there was to know in the world. What she was well educated upon was the military system of Atlas, the geography of Solitas, the native dust, fauna, flora, and grimm. However, she did not know what to make of the hunched over, black wreathed figure approaching them. Its two bone white canes stuck into the floor as the hunched figure made its way ever closer to Dove. Not that he stopped or changed direction. Dove was walking straight forward as if the figure did not even exist for him.

"Dove. You do see that, right?" Hesitantly fielded Penny.

"The Gevatter? Yeah."

"It is called a Gevatter? How do you know?"

Less than 30 feet between the two now. "I wouldn't be surprised if you've never seen or heard of a Gevatter. They're a little, how do I say this, messed up in design."

"How so? And why are you not avoiding it?"

"Calm down Penny. They really don't pay attention to us."

The hallowed face of the Gevatter looked up at them, its sunken red eyes glazed over, staring through Dove at her. Its mouth opened in a silent scream, and the next cane placement aimed it the husk humanoid at the two, shuddering all the while. Dove closed the distance to 20 feet. "It sees us."

"Yeah, but that's only because you're stressing it out. Calm down."

"That is because you are not doing anything about it!" Hissed Penny. "It is a grimm. Grimm naturally make me unsettled, as they can see my aura and have tried to disassemble me before."

"Oh that." Dove took three steps to his left, away from the ancient grimm. 10 feet between them. "That's cause I can't actually do anything against it."

"How so. It is a grimm. How you not able to kill it?"

"As I said, part of its design error." Another two steps to the left, swinging wide around the grimm, leaving only 5 feet between Dove and the creature. Dove continued walking past it. The grimm started turning to follow. "It has time dilation."

"Please clarify."

"If I was to swing my sword at the Gevatter, my blade would age, and would most likely snap upon hitting its boney hide." Dove, continuing at his slug's pace, gained an additional 5 feet on the grimm. "The cloak thing they wear is like its fur. It's actually really boney underneath it."

"And the canes?"

"That's their hands. Or technically, two of their fingers. If you look closely, their nails actually age the ground beneath it."

Dove adjusted the camera to look behind him. To her disbelief, he was right. In the places where the cane dropped into the snow in the sunlight, the snow melted exponentially faster. In the shade, the snow turned to ice. "And its own inability to chase?"

"As I said, design flaw. It aged itself. It's more of a moving hazard than an actual threat."

"As in a real threat, but one that is avoidable rather than one in which we need to be concerned about. It still has not left our trail."

"Because you're still worried about it." Chided Dove. "Chill."

Penny used a second to reorder her emotional state. "Can these Gevatters be killed?"

"Yeah. Explosives. Or you drop a really big rock on them."

"And if you do not kill it?"

"It does like negative emotions, but its ability to track them is quite diminished by its own age. As seen here." Penny looked back, and saw the Gevatter poking at their footprints, trying to feel out where they went. "It is basically blind when people have their emotions in check. What it can always feel out is people who are already on death's door."

"Like you?"

"Technically. Though it basically can feel out anyone who's going to die within the next 100 days without fail. Numbers vary, but that's the general rule."

"By feel out you mean…?"

"I mean they can feel them from a continent away and will start making their way over. Probably the only reason why they haven't been decommissioned."

"Their ability to track those who are injured and elderly?"

"Precisely. Especially since they can't be transited on like Gryphons or Dragons."

"Is it because they age them too quickly?"

"Precisely. And can't do bullheads either cause they age right through the metal floor plating."

"They sound astonishingly useless." Admitted Penny.

"Except the fact that no huntsman team can defeat one. It takes a city to kill it." Explained Dove. "They're siege engines."

"How many have you fought?"

"Just one." Dove sighed. "We learned to just move to other settlements when we start seeing Gevatters. Helps knowing that they always come from the south."

"Just the south?"

"Grimmlands are to the south."

"Going off of what you told me, is it not possible to lead one into a body of water, or bury them alive?"

"They don't breathe." Dove grimaced. "Most actually have to cross an ocean to get to any continent. They do so by walking on the ocean floor, so take that as you will for the quality of their armor." Dove gestured to the Gevatter behind them, which had turned back around and continued heading further inland. "That guy probably had to cross two."

"Oh. Is there nothing we can do?"

"Attach a bell onto it?" Jested Dove. "Unlikely. They just show up, and you either dump your explosives on it, leave, or you all die."

"They essentially ignore most walls, do they not?" Asked Penny with a quiet concern.

"Yep. Anything that rusts will, and wood rots in their presence. Their literal only problem is that they take forever to get to wherever they're needed."

"When were they discovered?" Penny asked. "How did the kingdoms not hear of these highly specialized grimm before they were upon us?"

"Surprisingly, about 22 years ago." Started Dove. "The first reports place them in Southern Vacuo. Thought the government passed it off as an old wives' tale that the tribes told to each other, and as an excuse to begin infringing on the territory of more northern tribes."

"Oh." The two slogged on in relative quietness. "What happened next."

"The CCT towers went down from sabotage, waves of grimm attacked the nomadic tribes, and the Gevatters punched through any walls that remained. It's why most of us never heard of them. Ancient bunch, just stupidly slow. Surprised one made it all the way up here though."

Not really. "It has been 22 years. One could make quite a bit of distance if one walked forward for 22 years straight."

"I guess that is true. Wonder how long it'll take us to reach the shore at this pace."

"I do not have any maps to inform you on any ETA's, but I can inform you that we will most likely close the distance in 0.4x the time in which the Gevatter took."

"And how did you do that math?"

"You move approximately 2.75x faster than the Gevatter, and I factored in breaks for sleeping and defecation."

"Nice."


	36. Day 36

One of the things that Dove had to admit that he didn't miss was the lack of marauders when he was locked in the Mint. Penny was buried in a snowbank, with the camera watching, and his stack of rocks were beneath him. Hopefully he didn't have to kill these poor idiots. The armored truck drove up, stopping just over twenty feet away, its chained wheels crunching on the snow. Five bandits hopped out of the vehicle, leaving only one rifleman in the truck's flatbed. The five men, no, boys started snickering as they began surrounding him. Youngest looked sixteen. Oldest looked like he was in his early twenties. Young kids. What a shame. Rookies.

"Let me guess," began Dove. "You're going to ask for all my gear, strip me naked, and leave me out in the cold, dead, while you guys only get like 40% of the cut when you go back to your boss."

The biggest boy snorted. "We get 60%. And if you know what we're going to ask, why ain't you doing so?"

"Because I am feeling altruistic today." Dove said, as he stretched his hamstrings. "Besides, your boss gets 40% for not having to do anything?"

"He looks after us!" Yelps one of the younger boys.

"A-huh. Sure."

"Of course, the dirty dog doesn't believe us." Snarls the biggest boy. "God damn ugly faunus prick. Must be the reason why he wears the mask. Must know he's so ugly, that not even the sun wants to look at its inbred face." The other boys laughed at the joke. If it could be called as such.

Dove shrugged. "I mean, that's not entirely wrong. So, you going to put me down like the dog I am?"

"Gunny!" Barks the biggest boy. The boy in the truck aims at Dove, propping the stock into his shoulder. "Fire when ready."

"Any last words, dirty mutt? I'll make sure to carve them into you." Growls the boy called Gunny.

"In the mouth please." The rifle shot spiraled and smashed into Dove's mouth plate. His head snapped back, and he dropped backwards. Bullet didn't even punch through the plate, and the boys were already celebrating a well-done raid. Not that they saw. Just let them get closer. Then begin the lessons. Not really for them. More for Penny. She might get her body back sooner than they both expected, and probably should know some of the weaknesses it has so she doesn't end up in a box for an extended duration again. They were probably not going to survive much longer, even if Dove didn't kill them here. Not that he was going to try to, but accidents happen.

A few of the boys started to surround him. "Man, this guy went down easier than I thought he would." Said one of them as he prodded Dove's body with a mace. Not him.

"What big talk from such a little man. Pathetic." Snarled another, as he spat on Dove's armor, cradling his handgun between his crossed arms. This one. Just had to wait.

The first one started checking Dove's beltline. "Hey, Brownstone, any idea how to get this off of him? We might be able to use this plating for something else."

"Maybe around the neck." The boy named Brownstone kneeled near Dove's head. Dove's head fired forward, the crested, jagged helmet bashing into the teeth of the boy. He fell back, and with one hand cradling his bloodied mouth, he fired a few rounds at Dove. They skipped off his armor. "He's not down!" Screamed Brownstone through his bloody spittle.

Dove grabbed the other boy and threw him to the ground as he stood back up, strutting towards Brownstone, emptying his magazine. "Rule number one, never assume that the enemy is down." Dove slapped the gun out of the boy's hands. "Two. Keep a good grip on your weapon."

"Screw you!" Screamed Brownstone as he drew out a knife from his belt. The other boys should either be recovering or getting back up.

"Three," Dove instructed as he grabbed the boy's wrist, intercepting the stab. He then grabbed his shirt, and threw the boy over his shoulder, into the snow with a succinct thud. "Even if you have aura, you can still be grappled." The boy groaned in response. A mace thudded against his shoulder plate. Dear brothers, these boys were not prepared for anyone under the age of sixty. Dove grabbed the limp wrist with both hands, and spun Brownstone into the mace wielding boy. The two slammed into each other, making an incoherent pile of jumbled limbs and general aches. "Four. Be aware of your teammates."

"Gunny! Fire at will!" Screamed the biggest boy, as the last three closed the distance.

Dove let the shots pepper his thick armor and hurled one of the stones from his pile at the gunner. While the shot was not accurate, the stone smashed into one of the windows of the car, cratering it. "Five, use your aura wisely." Dove then parried a sword swing with his bulky armor. "Everything to do with it has an opportunity cost."

"What are you going on about, you geezer!" Raved the biggest boy as he slammed his oversized letter opener against Dove's armor plating. There was a reason why he wore nearly 60 pounds of armor.

"Do you have aura?" Dove asked, as he backhanded the blade away from himself, forcing the boy to over-commit to a swing. The other two were trying to score hits on him, but between their overzealous leader and the rifle man, they simply could not safely find openings.

"Of course, I do, freak. Better question is how do you faunus freaks unlock auras yourselves, when y'all don't got souls."

"Good." Dove redirected another blow, and wrenched the boy's arm behind his back, putting him between himself and the shooter. "Please keep it up for the duration of this lesson."

"Why you little- gack!" started the boy before a jagged armored arm wrapped around his throat in a choke hold.

"Addendum to rule number three, you can still be choked, as well as crushed. The aura will prevent any piercing as well as delay the suffocation, but even it cannot prevent the inevitable." The big boy continued to be jerked to the left and right to catch his comrade's blows. Dove then dropped his choke hold on the boy to wrench both of his arms backwards, spinning the arms a full 220 degrees directly down and back. With a foot on the middle of the boy's back, and a sickening pop, the arms pulled out of their sockets. "Rule number five, your joints can still be dislocated." The boy was left screaming on the floor, aura intact.

Two bodies jumped onto him from behind, beginning to pound on his armor, trying to find chinks in it. "We got him boss. Just got to Shade of the Colossus this!" Yelped on the younger boys on him. Most likely the one with the club.

"Is that the game where a small guy stabs very specific points on very large creatures?" Asked Dove while he was spinning and bucking in an attempt to shake them off.

The younger of the two boys paused. "Yeah. Why?"

Dove hopped backwards, and landed his 240-pound frame, including the armor, onto the boy. "Addendum to rule three, don't grapple things you know can crush you via body weight, without any damage to itself." The older of the boys rolled off, but the younger one was a whining mess. Not dead, but wouldn't be surprised if he was winded, if not had his aura broken by that. Dove rolled out of the way, just in time for one of the other boys to bring his broadsword down onto the younger boys. "Rule four, dinguses!"

Two shots peppered his back, as he looked back, only to see the truck bearing down upon him. The gunner and a pal of his were now using the truck for offense. Very good. They were learning. Sort of. "Soooeyyyy!" Cried out the driver as he smashed into Dove. Crushing the younger boy with the tires in the process. There goes the goal of no fatalities.

Dove was very glad he had aura and had been barely using it until this point of the fight. He would still most definitely have bruised ribs at the end of this. However, dear brothers above, did getting hit by an armored truck still hurt. He clawed at the hood of the car to remain on the front, instead of being dragged under. Gunny was still taking shots at him, rounds skipping off of him and the hood. "What is you kids' problems!"

"We're just taking what we deserve you faunus scum," declared Gunny, as he continued to put shots downrange, fruitlessly. "For our fallen brothers."

"Rule four! You're the idiots who killed him!"

"They wouldn't have been into that position if you had just died like the rest!" Screamed out Gunny.

"What is that-" accused Dove before he was interrupted by the truck slamming face first into a snowbank. The truck began to reverse, before slamming into Dove again. And again. Upon the fourth reversal, Dove dove underneath the face of the truck, and scrambled past the bed. He climbed onto the flatbed behind the Gunner, peeled off the dented armor piece off of his abdomen, and with the form of a professional batter, slammed the face of Gunny into the back window. The boy crumpled as his head broke the back window, and the rifle dropped into the snow, under the stained chained tires. "Rule five, addendum." Panted Dove. "Concussions, are internal damage."

The driver looked back at his concussed teammate's face, hanging only a foot behind him. The boy began cursing as he began to reverse, and spin in an attempt to get Dove off. "Brother, oh brothers, dear lords!" Frantically cursed the driver as his comrades neared his bucking truck.

Dove kicked Gunny fully through the back window and launched himself feet first into the head of the driver. In a death roll, the truck tumbled. Gunny slammed around awkwardly in the back seat and landed crooked on his neck. Dove found himself ejected through the passenger window, tumbling through the snow. Dove looked up to see the truck on its side, and the driver crawling out through one of the broken windows. The other two were still making their way over. Dove quickly shunted his foot into the nose of the driver, knocking him out, and leaving a nice red puddle in the snow. "So." Heaved Dove, as he regained himself. "What lesson you two want to relearn next?"

"How about you relearn your place." Spat one of them.

"I have no idea why any of you think I'm a faunus." Admitted Dove as he unclipped his sheathed sword from his belt.

"You're not?" Asked the other boy.

"I'm not. I just wear the mask cause it's convenient."

"How so?"

"Protection from the elements, and it prevents snow blindness." Dove yawned and massaged his jaw. "No idea why you two are still trying to be fashion icons."

"We're meant to be like Robin Hue, and his gang of brigands."

"Oh, you're robbin' something, all right."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Snarled the first boy.

"You've killed as many of your own teammates as I have, if not more. You're robbing their lives."

The boy adjusted his glaive. "Very funny. Let's teach this joker a lesson."

The other boy slammed his sledgehammer into the snow in what was supposed to be an act of intimidation. "Sounds good."

"Rule six. Force is what does damage to aura, not edges," Dove instructed as he deflected the glaive, and parried the hammer. With a second swing of the sword, the hammer bro had to take a step back or take a mouthful of sheath. The glaive cut down and skidded off of Dove's shoulder plate. The boy's hands were pommel struck for that recklessly targeted attack. "Though I am impressed you two work this well together."

"Why won't you die!" Hissed the hammer bro as he prodded at Dove's defenses, trying to prompt an opening for his comrade.

"Don't feel like it." Dove took the weak blow, and with a draw of his sword, chopped a chunk out of the shaft of the glaive. The glaive dropped like a guillotine, slamming into Dove's residual aura, and snapped. The head flew into the air and dropped into the snow.

The boy looked down at his newly christened quarter staff. "Can we just call it quits? We go our way you go yours?"

His hammer bro looked at him in disgust. "And just let him go? After what he did to our brothers? Our pack? You're just going home a coward?"

"We're not winning this. He's got at least ten years of solid experience on us." Stammered the spearman. "He's been toying with us, this entire time. He hasn't needed to use his aura until recently. He only just drew his sword. And it's obviously Huntsman grade. Don't you get it?"

"That you're a coward?" The hammer bro's strike was offset by a sheath blow, and his aura tanked a sword strike to his ribs. "He's got less aura than us. Don't be a weakling now!"

Dove locked his foe's weapon beneath his sheath as he aimed his gun sword at the hammer bro and unloaded his cylinder into his face. The first five slammed into his aura, the sixth tore a chunk out of his cheek, exposing the warped bone to the air. The boy went down screaming clutching his face. Dove ejected the shells from the cylinder, letting the cases steam in the snow. "Rule seven." Spat Dove, letting the bloody spittle rest in the snow for a moment. "Fights attract grimm."

"What?" Asked the spear wielder before a small two-legged lizard slammed into his back. He tried bringing up his staff to stop the clamping teeth from chewing through him. "Help! Please! I'm sorry!" Screamed the boy in desperation.

"Rule seven, addendum. Aura amplifies emotions." The Creep's jaws snapped through the wooden shaft, and began burrowing into the boy's gut, akin to a maggot in the flesh of a dog. Dove frankly found difficulty finding pity for the boy, not just because the act of pity would attract the Creep's attention itself. "Welp, I'll be taking your truck."

* * *

Penny was riding in the shotgun seat of the truck as they continued towards the coast. Dove had been silent since the fight and had taken off his mask to ice his wounds. His lip was busted, and he had been spitting blood since. And yet, he still had time to look over in concern.

"So, what did we learn?"

"I do not think that there is a future for humanity if most people are like that." Morosely commented Penny.

"That's an understatement." Dove looked nice when he smiled, even if he looked more purple than peach.


	37. Day 37

Penny watched from the flatbed of the truck as Dove peeled off plating from the truck, placing the plating on a tarp along with all of his wrenched and warped armor pieces.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

"Got to fix my armor." Dove noted as he compared the size and thickness of two plates. The majority of the plates attached to his armor were removed.

"How are you doing so? How does your armor work?"

"It's essentially plate armor of the years of yore." He looked up at the lens. "I strap plates onto my body."

"Why not repair the plates you have?"

"Unfortunately, while I know basic maintenance, I do not have the metal working skills to fix bullet-holes and crushed plating." Dove picked at something white imbedded into one of the plates. "I also somehow picked up a tooth, somewhere. Weird."

"Any difficulties with the truck plating?"

"Yeah. It's thinner. Less angular. Bit annoying, as it makes it harder to ricochet ammo."

Penny thought a moment. "As in how sloped armor protects a tank better?"

Dove raised his finger in agreement. "Exactly!"

"Interesting." Penny thought for a moment. "Since there were not many who fought in full plate armor in the last decade, does fighting in plate cause much difficulty moving?"

"Contrary to popular belief, it does not." Dove paused and corrected himself. "Normally. My armor happens to not be the best for rolling, as it was designed for truck or car tumbling, not human tumbling."

"Makes sense." Penny watched as he started unhooking straps from metal fragments, reclipping buckles, and repairing worn bands. "Why did you fight with your sheath on?"

"Sword maintenance is a pain." Replied Dove. "Extended fights cause the blade to be worn down quickly, and while it does, maybe an additional 5% damage to aura, the dulling of the blade makes it much more difficult to get the kill twenty or so people in. So, I hit people with the sheath to do damage."

"Is it not possible to cut through aura?"

"Yes, it is. Aura has essentially a hard cap on how much force it can take before it punches through. Theoretically, if one had enough energy and force, one could cut off something like an arm, while the person had full aura. Unlikely, and I've never seen it happen, but not impossible."

Not her place to talk about that. "Understandable. Why is it that you or they do not keep your aura up at all times?"

"Have you ever tried doing mental math while typing? Spinning your hands clockwise, and your feet counterclockwise?"

"Yes. It is quite feasible."

"Right, forgot. You can run subprocesses like they're not an issue." He exhaled heavily through his nose. "It's not as easy for humans. It takes concentration."

She liked hearing him talk. It helped her out. "I have also heard terms like focusing one's aura. What have you interpreted that as?"

Dove paused fiddling with the straps in his hand. "It's sort of like moving water. You move the water to where it's needed most, and increase the hard cap in that area, but decrease the hard cap in others. It also helps with any physical feats involving that section."

"Convenient."

"It really is."

Time to ask what she really wanted to know. "And what about Windbag?"

Dove put down his tools. "I don't know. I don't know how to feel about it."

"What do you think the number meant?"

"I'm not sure I want to know."

"Understood." Penny looked at the tarp, analyzing the two piles. "Got your armor sorted?"

"Yep. Just give me a moment to strap up, and we'll be on our way."

Re-armored, Dove picked up Penny, strapped her onto his back, and the two left the gutted, empty truck to fade and become one with the landscape.


	38. Day 38

"I need to ask," started Penny. "Why do you continue to wear that mask? You have been incorrectly identified as a member of the White Fang on two separate occasions because of it."

"You were only there for the last one. How do you know about the other one?"

"432 and 437 thought you were a faunus at first."

"But not Skink?" Started Dove, before he deadpanned, "Of course he'd know. Or at least he'd be able to convince me he knew all along. But I didn't know about them thinking otherwise."

"Then what was the other occasion where you were thought to be ex-Fang?"

"508."

Penny paused. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"You ever wonder how he is doing?"

"No." Answered Dove without any bite. "But I think he's doing fine."

"That makes sense." The two strode forward in silence. The skies were surprisingly clear, and the milky grey-blue sky loomed over them. Just a sole white figure strolling the icy desert. "Why is it then that you wear the mask? Technically speaking."

"As in more than," Dove armed his fingers with air-quotes. "It's just a really convenient mask?"

"Affirmative."

"Do you know how hard it is to find face plates that are half an inch of cold steel, with sun-glasses built into them?" Before Penny could even processing a response, Dove continued. "It's almost impossible! No one makes steel face plates with protective eyewear. The baskets the soldiers wore left giant holes where their mouths were, and had so many joints, it would make a centipede jealous. They were practically asking to be stabbed through the mouths! And the basic Fang grunt plates are basically the same thing, but with the glass and a solid plate, rather than scale mail on your head!"

Penny watched as he was literally steaming in the cold weather. "Then how did you get this mask?"

"I pulled it off some elite." He hissed out a cloud of steam. "Just typical. Let's give all of our armor to the guys who can already defend themselves, but none to those who can't. We can always recruit more."

"You speak as if you were one of the grunts." Analyzed Penny.

"Probably would have been if I didn't go to Beacon. Not Fang, but in general." He took a swig from his canteen. "I just hate how disposable they made people. How they all made people. Every one of them, making they people simple numbers, statistics."

"As the leader Storwin was once attributed saying, Death of one man is a tragedy, the death of a million is a statistic."

"Didn't they find out that he starved millions of his own people?"

"Does that take away from his quote, or only further cement it?"

Dove paused. "Touché." Another long sigh, lingering in the icy desert. "I hate this. This, this baloney. Everyone's just a number. Waiting to be subtracted."

"But you know better."

"I'd like to think I do. I'd like to think everyone has at least some inherent worth."

"Is that why you took a picture of the truck with the names you know written on the car door?"

"Yeah. Least I could do."

"You really care, don't you?"

"Probably."


	39. Day 39

Another peaceful day, slogging through the snow.

"Since we have the time, do you mind if we talked more about your teammates?"

"CRDL?" Grunted Dove through his mask.

"There were other teammates?" Fielded Penny.

"Technically. We weren't an official team, but Russel and I rolled with a couple dudes for a year."

"What happened to them?"

"Honestly, not sure," admitted Dove. "We parted our own ways once we were out of the thick of it, and we never kept in touch afterwards."

"You want to talk about them?"

"Eh. I never got to know them, really. Think their names were Perry and Dudley? Weird pasts, the both of them, but they were in a pinch, and so were we, and when your backs are to each other's, does it really matter what they use to do?"

"You never asked?"

Dove stayed silent for a bit. "Russel did. It soured the team dynamic afterwards. It wasn't long after that everyone split their own ways."

"Oh. Sorry to hear about that." Apologized Penny.

"Don't be. It's not your fault. Don't think it was theirs either."

"Understood." The wind gently blew past them. "Dove, what was CRDL like? I've only heard stories."

"Let me guess, they weren't that flattering." Dove chuckled. "Jaune's stories?"

"Indeed." Cheerfully replied Penny. "They were from friend Jaune and were not flattering."

"Wish I could say that he wasn't right. I can't though. I really can't. We were awful to him."

"How so?"

Dove let out a sigh, one which could have belonged to a senior resting on a rocking chair watching the sunset in a retirement home, just years ago. "We treated him like literally garbage. A dog turd. We didn't take him seriously and had him do menial work for us," Dove explained. "Not because it had to be done, but mostly because we could get him to do it."

"How come?"

"Because he had cheated. We were blackmailing him with the fact that he had faked his way into the school. Beacon was pretty prestigious before its fall."

"I know." Droned Penny. "I was there before it fell."

"Right, right. I keep forgetting." Nodded along Dove. "Anyways, we took advantage of it. Not because we felt like we had anything against him or anything, but more like none of us liked his partner, or felt like upholding the rule. You don't get much by reporting a crime, but you can get a lot from blackmail."

"And so, your team decided to blackmail him."

"It actually was just Cardin. We just joined in, cause why not, you know?"

"I understand. Take advantage of the opportunity while it is open. While it may be unethical, it is potentially the most profitable short-term option."

"Exactly!" Chimed Dove. "And what 18-year-old isn't thinking in only short-term profit?"

"Quite a few, but I understand your point." Penny pointed out.

"Fair enough," snorted Dove. "Let's just say that a few of us felt personally insulted by this shmuck trying to be on the same level of us."

"As in all of you?" Corrected Penny.

"Actually, Sky was just having fun messing with him."

"Ah. Makes sense. So why did you all feel threatened by him?"

"It was less threatened, and more like it made our own struggles feel cheap. We weren't the golden children. We had our own problems. They just didn't make as good as stories as Jaune's or any of his buddies."

This confused Penny. Why would their stories be worth less? "How so?"

"I mean, look at them. The child prodigy. The heiress, with money and status. The champion avoiding the spotlight. The hero turning their back on their dubious past. Heck, even Jaune was the hopeless dope in over his head trying to be the hero." Dove seemed deflated. "And then there was us. Number two. A plus one. A shadow of his father. A boy felt as if he was in on charity. Do those sound-like heroes?"

Penny was silent. She knew what the answer was. But she did not want to say it.

"They don't do they." Dove was getting more riled up. He would most likely continue doing so until she answered.

"I guess they do not."

"Yeah. Putting it simply, we hated them. Well, I hated some of them. Cardin had his issues, as did the other two."

"Is this getting too much for you?"

"No. Maybe. Not yet." Sheepishly replied Dove.

"Mind if I ask about some of the issues?"

"Yeah. Not like they're around anymore." Dove deflated.

"Tell me more about Cardin."

"Cardin was Cardin. Honestly not sure how to explain it. His dad had to retire at 24, and his dreams of being a legend were shot."

"How so?"

"He badly dislocated his knee saving his teammate. Never could run again. Could still walk, but you know, its just not the same." Dove stared off at the horizon. "Sometimes Cardin would tell me that he wished his dad had died then. His dad would have achieved the legend status he wanted, and Cardin wouldn't be under the pressure to do it for him. That's the difference between dying in combat and coming home injured. Die in combat, and you're immortalized as this combat hero, a soldier who fought to his last. Come home, and its just all the things you could've been. And that's what Cardin and his father lived with."

"Did you ever meet him?"

"No. Met his mom though." Explained Dove. "Cardin and I never made up. Never had the chance. He was defending the fort-city he came from, and I stayed on the outskirts. Russel received an invitation to visit. It didn't say anything against me, but maybe he hadn't moved on. Might have. It had been six years by that point. I could never tell, nor will I ever."

"What happened?"

"Gevatter. First time any of us heard of it. Cardin died in combat like a hero, taking the thing out with his explosive mace, like a moron running at it with a caber. Dad died a few days after, either from sadness, or from a sense of relief that the Winchesters were going to be remembered as heroes."

"Were they?"

"Last time I was there, the fort was still standing, so maybe. I'd like to think it is."

Penny still wanted to know. "What did his mother say when you met her?"

"She was cold. Emotionally absent. His personal maid was much fonder of us. She also was personally touched that his personal friends had come to visit, even if it was too late. Never told her what had happened between us, don't see a reason to. She was happy that he had people who cared about him. She was a nice lady."

"She sounds like she cared."

"Yep." Dove slogged through the snow. "Not to speak ill of the dead, but I think she was probably his actual mother."

"How come?"

"She was his wet nurse, and essentially took care of him from diaper to death." Dove grunted as he started climbing a slope. "That, and the rumor that his mother was barren."

"Just a rumor?" Penny was skeptic. This was not the first time Dove did not tell her everything. "I feel as if there is more that you are basing this off of."

"He never talked about his mom. Always about his dad and his maid. He didn't really like her, and I don't think she liked him either. His mother, that is."

"Ah. Understandable."

"Probably also why he felt like he was just a re-do. He probably knew. But it wasn't like he could just say he was the illegitimate child of a lord and his faunus maid. Had to sell the story." Then Dove hummed, "But all of this could just be hearsay. Who really knows?"

"Who knows." Echoed Penny. "And Sky?"

"Sky was Cardin's cousin. First or second, never could keep track. He was just glad to be there." Dove chuckled. "He always was optimistic. He never expected to make it this far, and being on the same team as Cardin Winchester, the next in line for the Winchester family? That was incredible for him. He was always happy to have even made it."

"He was what kept the team together, was he not?"

"Yeah. Cardin and Russel were partners, and Sky and I were partners, officially. In truth, Russel and I hung out the most, while Sky was Cardin's plus one. Was always so chipper, even if he wasn't the brightest or the strongest." Dove took a drink from his canteen. "I miss him sometimes, even nowadays."

"Just had that contagious optimism?"

"Yep. Just could get a crowd feeling the same way." Dove stopped. "Now that I think of it, that might have been his semblance." Dove continued forward. "Whatever, maybe. Doesn't really matter now."

Two out of three. Time to round it off. "And Russel?"

"Russel was from the ghetto. Slums, whatever. Had a couple bad run-ins with gangs, so he had a personal reason not to like certain peoples, if you get what I mean." Dove massaged his shoulder. "Dodgy language aside, he really had grit, even if he was a bit of a runt. Wiry, tough, but ultimately, a rat is going to be treated like a rat. So that's how he was treated. Part of him always felt like he wasn't supposed to be there and that he wasn't good enough."

"Sounds like your team had a lot of doubts. Troubles."

"I guess so." Dove chuckled. "Always the bridesmaid, never the brides. So be it."

Penny felt concern. She could almost hear the tears in his voice. "Do you need to take a break now?"

"No. I'm okay." He had slowed down. "I just normally don't think about it. Easier that way."

"Sincerest apologies."

"What agreement did we have way back?"

"It was only a few weeks ago. And I simply forgot." She had not. She simply felt as if she needed to say it, and that her concern for him should be expressed.

"I got a real faulty AI, didn't I."

"It would appear so."


	40. Day 40

Penny watched as Dove hobbled back over the slope. He had placed her down, as he always does, and leaves to do his business. This time he walks a little more awkwardly.

"Is everything alright?" Asks Penny.

"Just tore my butthole a little bit with that last one." Grunted Dove. "Little bloody, but I'm fine."

"Are the rations getting to you again?"

"Indeed."

Penny hummed. "Do you know where we can restock on supplies?"

"I'm fine on water as," Dove gestures around him, "I can refill at any point in time. But admittedly, food and ammunition is a different situation all together."

"I thought you managed to get some food from the bandits who attacked you?"

"I did. About six days' worth. It's been about three, four days since I fought them? So, still sort of running out." Admitted Dove.

"And what about ammunition?"

"The caliber of bullets they had weren't the right size. I use three-fifty-seven, they used two-two-three. I can't fire that."

"How many bullets do you have left?"

"Thirty-one." Dove grunted as he strapped back on Penny. "Admittedly, I used way too much ammunition in that last fight, but when you get into the thick of it, you just move. And if you don't have that instinctual movement, you die. Simple as that."

"It sounds like you are trying to justify the usage of six bullets." Penny hesitantly pointed out.

"That's because I am."

"What do you plan on doing for additional ammunition then?"

"Maybe make do for now?"

"And food?"

"Make do?"

Not the answer she wanted to hear. "Dove."

"Yes Penny?" Grimaced Dove.

"You will continue eating full rations."

"But Penny~"

"Eat."

"No."

"Do it."

"Nah."

"Dove."

"That's my name."

Very funny, Dove. Very funny. "Just eat before I have to do something clever in order to either guilt or annoy you into doing what I'd like you to do."

"I guess you are really a woman." Droned Dove.

"Ha ha, I am completely riveted by your humor," dryly stated Penny, with as much mirth as a mausoleum.

"Aw, thanks!" Smiled Dove, disingenuously. "I try really hard."

"Right." Deadpanned Penny. "Anyhow, I have checked my records, and have noticed that we are heading in the direction of where the outer Atlassian wall once stood. Maybe we could ransack any barracks that are remaining for food or equipment?"

"Unlikely." Replied Dove. "Most of the wall got flattened in the full take over."

This had attracted her attention. "Most? There are segments of the wall still standing?"

"There's a reason why it's still standing."

"How come?"

"Alright, I'll tell you," sighed Dove. "So, the walls were being punched through, and were often ignored by some of the larger grimms. However, as with any wall, you only really need to get around it, over it, past it, etcetera, not take the whole wall down. So, on the parts that were breached, the people ransacked the skeleton crews, the barracks, and such."

"But not this section of wall."

"Not this section. It stood during the waves, as it was one of the strongest points in the wall. And when you go at a wall, you don't go for the strong points."

"Makes sense." Mused Penny.

"Let me finish." Jabbed Dove. "Anyways, the majority of the forces went into the cities and such that lay behind the wall. No real reason to go back to wipe out the wall. And now, the locals call that segment I've heard about, the Stone Mile."

* * *

Orders: Protect Atlas. Fire upon intruders. Caveat: There has been a breach in the wall. If others attempt to get onto the wall without proper identification, fire at will, regardless of direction. Ensure Armory remains stocked. Ensure Fabrication Machine maintenance is maintained. Ensure Central is maintained. Intruder detected. Aiming rotary cannon. Initiating one second burst. Scanning: intruder has been terminated. Resume patrol route.

* * *

It didn't know what hit it. It had looked like a lycanthrope. Moved like one. Armored in bone. Past tense. The Beowolf lay steaming in the snow, crumbling into ash. It was more cavity than creature. It simply was walking, looking for something, anything, and then it wasn't. The Beowolf crumbled to dust and blew away into the wind.

* * *

"Is it actually a mile of wall that is still standing?"

"It's actually closer to three-quarters of a mile. But Mile sounds cooler. That and the fact it shoots at anything up to an eight of a mile away."

"But can you restock there?"

"Hypothetically, yes. Practically, no."

"What other options do we have?"


	41. Day 41

Victory often did not have the sweet taste it used to. Ranks were swelling. The church was almost at its height. But there was something off. Something wrong. The robed priest padded their robes. He searched his holy fanny pack. Where was it.

"Tie! Where are my cigarettes!"

Another robed figure sprinted into the room. "We used the paper to write ceremonial scrolls, oh great one."

The great one opened up their ceremonial fluid vessel and gulped down a mouthful of the red liquid. "Any other news you want to let me know?"

"Great one, the vile Rebel Boys lost one of their raiding parties."

"So, the usual."

"It is another boon from the Acolyte! He deems our mission for our lady worthy and has sent the grimm after them!" Bellowed out the disciple.

"Why would they send more. We already have control over the ones in this area already through the Seers." Grunted the Great One as they wiped their mouth from another swig.

"They see our cause as just!" Yeah, they weren't home right now.

"You're dismissed, Tie."

"Thank you, oh Great One for your presence, and for calling me!"

"Yeah, yeah, leave my chambers," groaned the Great One, as they tossed the rest of the sacred fluid down their gullet. Damn, did whiskey burn good. The glass vessel clattered on the floor, as the Great One slumped forward, screaming silently into their holy lounge. How did they get here? Why did they manage to get away with this for this long? Why did everyone's IQ drop to a third of what it was as soon as Salem took over? These were the questions they had to ask themselves.

And why did they take their Great One's cigarettes to make paper? You can't write on that paper, nor were they even sure if it even was paper. They needed something, anything, to stay sane in this crazy world. Cause, by Salem's name, these nut-jobs weren't it, and neither were the possibly mentally damaged Rebel Boys.


	42. Day 42

The red robes swarmed out from the snow. Frankly, they were so erratic, Dove didn't even bother to think that they weren't grimm. They surprised Dove and Penny, and quickly surrounded them. When they didn't attack, Dove didn't question it, and let them escort him to wherever they were headed. While they were mentioning things like a great one, another boon from some acolyte, and how this was a weapon to finally defeat the Rebels, they seemed more like mentally disabled children with guns. Technically threatening, but mostly because they seemed too dumb to know proper trigger discipline. They didn't even bother to handcuff him. Eventually, they brought him into a cave of sorts. He felt like the fact that they were living in a blown-out bunker said something. Admittedly, once they brought him past the meandering guards supposedly watching the mouth of the cavern, the bunker was lavishly decorated, with black scorpions hanging from large red tapestries. Red everywhere, in the rugs to the plush pillows. Obviously custom ordered and new, as most of the felt remained on the pillows, and the fact that Atlas had a hard-on for white and light blue and was completely flaccid for any color that strayed away from those two. The entourage stopped in front of a curtained room.

One of the hooded robed figures sprinkled water on Dove. "Remember to show your greatest respects to the Great One, oh holy warrior sent from afar."

There were only two types of religious nutjobs nowadays, and Dove was betting on black. "I will pay my respects, in Salem's name."

The four escorts droned, "In Salem's name," in conjunction, as if they were a set of four speakers attached to a music player. They waited for Dove to enter the room first.

With a silent grunt, he pushed forward. Bits of frost flaked off his armor as he brushed past the curtains, sprinkling the soft carpets. A pair of figures followed behind him, and kowtowed, foreheads flat to the floor. Dove kneeled and bent his head down. While he could fold in on himself and completely bow forward, the jagged nature of his armor made that very uncomfortable. A voice boomed from behind one of the curtains, "What have you brought to me today, disciples! Good tidings?"

"Oh, Great One, we have brought the warrior that was foretold, the Bringer of Grimm!" Explained one of the robed figures in a panic.

"He insisted that he must meet your excellence!" Explained the other. Dove could only internally sigh. He had done no such thing, but good to see that some people never change.

Best thing to do was to lean into it. "I bring great tidings, oh Great One. Ones which only the most enlightened could even fathom."

The voice behind the curtain sounded like it pondered that point for a moment, and then stated, "Leave us. I require only the learned to be a part of this."

In harmony, the two replied with, "Thank you for allowing us to embrace your presence, oh Great One!" as they slowly, and calmly left the room.

The curtain parted, and the voice appeared to be a hooded person, with a scorpion insignia inked into the robe from the hood to its tassels and hemming. Kneeling. In front of Dove, with their head bowed. "If you're here to kill me in the name of the Acolyte, please do it quickly."

"What?"

"What?" Replied the androgynous voice. "That's why you're here, right?"

"No, they just sort of escorted me here."

"But you're wearing the sign of a templar! A disciple of the Acolyte himself before his passing!" Blubbered out the hooded voice. "How could you not be a part of the church!"

"I'm not part of whatever church this is."

Dove could feel the stare of the person under the hood, when the inky blackness within turned up towards him. "Really? You're not here to kill me? And you're not part of the church?"

"Really, yes, and yes." This felt awfully redundant.

The hooded figure flopped back into a loose pile. "Oh dear, my life just flashed before my eyes. Really thought you were going to kill me there."

"Yeah. Sorry about that. Not today."

"Just really surprised me there," they panted, "Really thought you were one of them, a templar, that is."

"Is it the mask?"

They nodded. Or what could pass as a nod beneath all of their robes. "Yep."

"Are these masks really that uncommon?"

"I mean there were less than seventy lieutenants in the White Fang, and only seventeen were kept in circulation for the templars and their disciples," explained the figure. "So, yeah, they're pretty damn rare. Where'd you get yours?"

"A dead guy."

"Of course, you did." Snarked the figure. "I meant where, as in location."

"Little after the ferry stop, 'bout two days north?"

"Ah. Cool."

"Literally. Frozen to death, I think. Caught in a blizzard."

"Really? That sounds a lot like how I got this robe!"

"Wait, what?"

"What?"

"You not in the church either?"

The figure chuckled. "Technically not?"

Dove eased the creases in his forehead through his mask. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"Unfortunately, yes." They laughed nervously.

"And let me guess, you found the robe about a year ago?"

"Yes?"

"Did the same blizzard kill two of the highest-ranking members in some sort of fanatical cult, only to be impersonated by some bums?"

"Looks like it."

Dove grunted and pressed a button on his scroll. "Feel free to say what you want to say. You're no longer muted."

"What?" The figure stated.

"What? How? That's nearly statistically impossible? There is no way a natural blizzard could have spanned such an area!" Exclaimed Penny.

Both Dove and the figure shrugged. "Who knows what's possible and not possible nowadays?" Claimed Dove.

"Exactly! Who knows what could happen next? The world is in constant turmoil!" Cheerfully shrugged the figure.

"I mean, it couldn't have been zero," started Dove. "I mean, you're the one able to run the calculations on that."

"Wait what?" The figure looked up at Dove. "I don't think any person could do that."

Meanwhile, Penny had run into an issue. "What the. I cannot even. How. What the. I cannot even. How." Stammered Penny, ad nauseum.

"I guess that threw her for a loop." Commented Dove as he muted her and waited for her to finish frizting. First time he'd ever seen her this way. "Oh well."

"She's not a person, is she?" Stammered the figure.

"No, she isn't. She's still a friend of mine, though." Explained Dove.

"I think that makes sense." They pulled out a lighter and started lighting and extinguishing the light. "Not really. I don't get it."

"Fair enough. I can explain more, but it'll take me a while." Admitted Dove. "Or at lease as long as it takes for her to recover from whatever she's got."

"Are you sure she's not down for the count?"

"She'll be fine." Dove patted her server. "I've got my trust in her."

"Oh. Okay."

"You're just still rattled, aren't you?"

"Oh, most definitely."

"Got it." Dove squatted down on his haunches. "So, what next?"

"I would like you to explain it to me, mister…?"

"Real names or fake names."

"Fake ones," affirms the figure. "We don't know what the other looks like, and for both of our safeties, we should probably keep it that way."

"Right. I'm Bird. Would you like me to call you Go?"

"That…" The robed figure reached their hand into the darkness of their cloak. "Works actually. I don't dislike it."

"Alright, Go, you want me to explain it now, or let you have some time to absorb what you're about to learn?"

"Maybe do some now?" Nervously fielded Go. "I'll pass out wherever."

"That works for me." Grunted Dove as he made himself comfortable for one of the longest stories in his life.


	43. Day 43

The three of them kneeled around the low table. A silver tray bearing three glasses rested on the table, one empty and flipped over. Penny rested on a cushion, with her eye atop the flipped cup.

Delicate gloved hands tilted water into the darkness of their hood. "As Bird had explained last night, you are an artificial soul, that he is escorting to wherever he is headed."

"That is correct." Responded Penny.

"Amazing." The glass was gently placed back onto the table. "This is truly revolutionary. How come I never heard of this?"

"Secret clearance?" Grunted Dove.

"Essentially. The details of the project were meant to remain a secret to the greater populace." Penny waited for the hood to nod in understanding. "However, based on what Dove explained to me based on what he gleamed from you; you are in a similar situation as he."

They leaned back. "Essentially. We both just took advantage of what the cold of Atlas gave us and rolled with it. Except he kept moving, I settled in here."

"Why did you settle here?"

"Mostly convenience." Another reserved sip. "If they thought I was their priest, who was I to stop them. It didn't take long for me to understand basic context clues and what to say to keep up the illusion."

"Is that why these guys mostly keep to themselves here?" Spoke Dove as his plates scraped lightly against each other.

"Essentially. I have convinced them that we are superior, and therefore must accept those who are lost, as they are the sheep who strayed. However, I also taught that true strength is in restraint."

"And you can use that as an excuse as to not act."

"Or to act non-aggressively." They gestured to the metal barrels, piping, and vats behind them. "Violence, while in the doctrine, is now reserved to furthering her goals."

"And since she doesn't talk to you, since you're an extremist branch of her most extreme follower, you all don't have any goals that you need to fulfil."

"Yes, but these so-called Rebel Boys are not contributing," they sighed. "I have nothing against them, nor have we attempted to convert them while I have been here, and yet they insist on provoking us to take the Malt in an attempt to supposedly begin rebuilding Atlas."

"How have they been attacking or interfering in your affairs?" Chimed in Penny.

"They have been sending out parties with the intent of fighting and had poisoned the major water reservoir under the Malt with lead. The previous leader here responded in turn, and poisoned theirs with lead in retaliation, as well, before they were lost in the fog of war."

"So now there's now two unusable reservoirs poisoned with lead?" Snarled Dove.

"Just one, actually." Corrected Go. "Our reservoir and theirs is connected."

"Both the Rebel Boys and Church of the Acolyte poisoned themselves?" Glitched out Penny.

"Essentially."

"I am impressed." Dove placed a bag of snow next to her steaming plates. "Truly, truly impressed. What did they or you do next?"

"They still drink from it, because they insist that they are heartier than a small amount of metal." Sipped Go. "I've been making a purifier to see if I can make enough clean water for them."

"How do you do so?"

"Distillation. It's why I have all this equipment behind me."

"It's not for alcohol?" Asked Dove with possibly too much interest.

"Not all of it, though if you would like, I can share some of my distilled product."

"I might take some to go."

"Are you sure about that?" Penny asked with concern.

"It is calories that you can consume while on the move, and it keeps the body warm." Explained Go. "There should not be much to fear from it."

"Yes," Confirmed Dove in a robotic voice. "It is only for warmth and calorie consumption. Most definitely."

"See?"

"I completely understand." Replied Penny in an equally robotic voice.

Go beamed under their hood. "Might I ask where you two are headed? Just sate my curiosity for a bit."

The cold steel mask gazed into the darkness. "The Stone Mile."

"Oh." The delicate hand fidgeted in the darkness. "Are you quite sure?"

"Need to restock on supplies. And it would be a really douche move if I took resources from you."

"That, and it would be impolite to our host, especially after you treated us so well, even when your own home is in such a condition." Chimed in Penny.

"Oh, do not worry about that." Chuckled Go. "Please help yourself. It would not due to trouble you in this way."

"It would simply be, putting Dove's words into nicer terms, too rude to do so. It just wouldn't do."

"No. Please. Go ahead."

"Do you have three-fifty-seven?" Interrupted Dove.

"I don't believe so?"

"Then we're still going to need to try getting into the wall's ammo reserves somehow."

"You do know that they use standardized ammunition there, correct?"

"I tried explaining that to him, but he insists that unless we went on what he called a murder-hobo spree across the Atlas countryside, the wall would be the best bet at finding this type of ammunition." Penny explained, "Not that he is unable to do the former, it is because he insists on not doing so, even if he happens to be very good at it."

"Are you still on that?" Groaned Dove.

"Yes, because it is humorous." Snickered Penny. "In a dark and twisted way of course. You insist on not killing, and yet you somehow have found a way to undermine yourself in that too."

"Just who I am, isn't it?"

"It doesn't have to be."

"Right." Stated Go awkwardly. "Still, don't recommend raiding the wall, at least not without protection." They gestured to Dove's armor. "This is not nearly enough."

The cold mask tilted to look at the hooded figure. "So, what do you recommend then?"

"How about a deal." Started Go. "You help me settle our differences with the Rebel Boys, and I see if I can negotiate some of their ammo from them."

"How are you going to do that?"

"Well, clean food and water, for ammunition."

"Isn't that a surrender?"

Penny chipped in. "Indeed. Are you not willing to negotiate for more? Potentially a connection between the Malt and their base, making one larger community, if you can even manage to obtain a diplomatic contact?"

"To be honest, I'm not even sure if they produce anything of value," admitted Go. "They're mostly marauders."

"In that case, maybe a protection clause would be the safest thing to bargain for." Conceded Penny. "In that case, how do you plan on meeting such a deal, if consumable food and water are not readily available here?"

Go filled the two empty glasses with an amber liquid. "I have been attempting some methods to produce more food. In addition, my semblance helps with ensuring clean food and drink."

"Do you mind if I inquire as to what it is?"

"No, not at all," waved Go, dismissing any signs of bad faith. "It allows me to disinfect things."

"Then why don't you do so for the water?" Grunted Dove before he took a sip of the ambrosia.

Go clicked their tongue. "It cleans out filth, not sediment."

"What's the difference?"

"It makes the food or water itself safe for consumption. However, I cannot remove the inherent qualities of something. Sand will always taste like sand, and lead will be lead."

"But you are able to remove things such as carrion and fecal matter from water then?" Asked Penny.

"Technically. If the volume is small enough." Explained Go. "My semblance works much better on solid items, as I only need to cleanse the surface area, and not the volume. If the volume is smaller than the surface area, then it is usually something I can clean."

"Doesn't it just mean that it settles at the bottom of the liquid?" Questioned Dove.

"Yes, it does, which is why I distill water. It is much easier to clean foods with this and makes it, so I do not require rare equipment to do so." A fourth of their drink disappeared. "It is also why I do not even attempt at directly cleaning the reservoir."

Dove cracked his neck and downed the rest of his drink. "What do you think Penny? We help them get a peace deal? Negotiate between two extremists?"

"Unfortunately, the likelihood of you surviving this engagement is higher than if you attempted to raid the Stone Mile, based off of the information I have on both."

"So, you don't even want to do this?"

"I do not fully understand why you require to restock on your ammunition." Shot back Penny. "However, I will not stop you, and will help where I can. And if Go is politely willing to help you afterward to obtain your specific ammunition type, in exchange for a bit of assistance, who am I to say no, especially after their hospitality?"

"I can see that." Dove shifted his weight and held his hand out for a shake. "Alright, Go, you've got yourself a deal. We help you out, you help us out."

"I don't think those were the terms I had set in the beginning…" trailed Go.

"You going to shake the hand or not?" Go shut up, and gently clasped Dove's hands in theirs. "Fantastic, great doing business with you. When do you want us to start?"


	44. Day 44

Before Dove, stood a wall about forty feet away. Or at least in a technical sense, a wall. Scratch that, that was still too generous. The corrugated steel plates leaned up against light rebar frames, or on parked trucks, to make the appearance of a solid barrier around a base.

"Do you have a megaphone setting?"

"Do I have a megaphone setting?" Echoed Penny. "I am not sure. Do I? You have had this scroll for far longer than I have."

"You're the one in it."

"I am software. I cannot make changes to the hardware." Gaped Penny. "Therefore, what do you think? Do I have a megaphone setting?"

"I'm going to go with no."

"I do not." Penny sighed. "Just be sure to use your diaphragm. They will not take you seriously if your voice cracks while making demands."

"Yeah, yeah. Will do." Dove took a deep breath in, released it, and bellowed. "Good day to you! I come with the offer of a deal!"

On the other side of the eight-foot-tall excuse of a wall, Dove could hear the blokes on sentry duty scrambling to attention. A voice called back, "Did you come alone?"

Dove looked at the four very conspicuous robed figures squatting in the snow around him. Supposedly they were his security detail, and yet he was the only one who could even try blending into the snow. "Yeah, I got company!" One of the robes turned and put their finger up to their hood and hissed. Dove looked over at him, mask betraying no emotions, and snarked, "You do know they literally can see you, right? No point in lying to them."

"You're giving us away!" Hissed back the robe.

Dove wanted nothing more than to commit murder. He knew it was wrong, but maybe the silence was preferable to this. Noticing this, Penny came to his rescue. "Just take a sip and get ready for what they say." Dove uncapped a canteen he was carrying and consumed a quarter of it with a belch. "I meant to take a sip of water."

"I know." Dove wiped his chin. "I just value my sanity."

"May I have some then?"

Dove thought long and hard, and then he remembered: she can't drink. "No."

"At least I tried."

"That you did." A steaming glass bottle flew up and over the wall and landed a good eight feet in front of him. "What's this?"

"It's what we think of you and your traitorous buddies!" Jeered a sentry.

"It is urine." Helpfully supplied Penny.

"Ah. Glad I didn't grab the bottle now." Dove kicked snow onto the bottle. "You do know the bottle didn't break, right?"

"What!"

"I said, the bottle didn't break!"

"You're going to need to speak louder!" Screamed back the sentry.

"I! Said!" Dove bit his tongue as a sodden paper wrapped item flopped over the wall and landed to his right. "Did you just throw your turd at me? What are you, a monkey?"

"Ironic, seeing who's talking!"

Dove opened the canteen and took another swig. "Why do people think that life is inherently valuable? Cause I'm having a bit of difficulty not un-life-ing him."

"Can you make life artificially?" Offered Penny.

"Apparently, someone could."

"I can see how that was a bad vantage point to attack this from." She sighed. "Another way to look at it would be, would you like someone to kill you because you may be annoying?"

"Well, about that." Began Dove.

"Dove. Please. Not now. I do not particularly appreciate that."

"Jeez, fine, what a kill joy." A second bottle flew over, mostly empty. "Are you serious!"

"Go away!" Hollered back the sentry.

"What'll get you to talk to me!"

"You slitting your damn wrists, you dirty animal!"

One of the robes looked over at him. "Can we kill them?"

Dove massaged his face plate. "As much as I'd like to, I've been asked to hesitate on that front."

"Alright." The robe shifted in place. "Hesitation over. May I kill him."

"Just you?"

"Please." The figure sounded like he was on the edge of something. "Sir."

"No." Dove turned back towards the wall, as the robe appeared to buckle over and begin frothing at the mouth. "I'm heading towards the wall now, okay?"

"Any closer and this will be interpreted as a sign of aggression!" Screeched back the sentry.

"So, you're not open to negotiations?"

"Of course not! We don't deal with terrorists!"

"Okay."

* * *

"So, that's how that went," gestured Dove as he kicked up his boots onto the table. "Sorry about that Go, but it doesn't look like it's happening."

The seated figure stared back at him. "You didn't really try, did you?"

Dove took another sip. "No, not really."

"How come?"

"Seem like the kind of people to respond to action, rather than words."

Go took a sip of their cup. "I can tell you're going to ask something. What do you want?"

Dove leaned forward. "Do you have a truck?"

"You want to drive a truck through their barricade."

"I want to drive a truck through their barricade."

Go shook their head in disbelief. "I'll see what I can do. Until then, keep doing what you can."

"And if they increase their pitching accuracy?"

"Take a shower."


	45. Day 45

One of his boys burst through his tent flap, yelping about an intruder. Did he not know that it was nearly midnight? A well-manicured hand swept back glossy jet black hair, as the young man took out his straight razor positioned himself in front of his mirror.

"Sir, you have to take this seriously! The crazies got themselves some armored aura guy, and he's just tossing us around! We need help!" Squealed the boy, like a pig. Pathetic.

The man's razor graced his skin, cleaving hairs smooth and flawlessly. A perfect shave. "And? Don't most of you have auras of your own?"

"That's not the point!" Clawed the desperate boy. His hands were knocked off, as they were not worth his time. "It's a templar!"

The man paused. Carefully, he squatted, and with an dirty smile, pinched the cheek of the boy with enough pain force the boy to tear up. "Then why didn't you say so?" He shoved him to the ground. "Tell the boys I'll be out in a moment. Been waiting for another one."

* * *

Dove was driving a truck through most of the compound, taking careful routes to not hit any of the boys. No need for casualties, and just a good day to go for a drive. He popped open his canteen and took another swig as he crashed through another tent. Dear brothers did it feel good to drive demolition. Another swing around the edge of the barrier and standing where he had punched the hole was a soldier. That was the only way to explain him. Not that he was in regulations, but this man knew what he was doing, in this sea of boys. An eel in a school of minnows. Wearing full Atlassian armor: stark white armor plating on his arms, legs, and torso, with that inferior helmet they insisted on wearing. Few issues with his armor though. In red, he had painted on his chest plate the word "rot" in all caps and had scraped in six tally marks onto the glass of his helmet. Dove revved the engine as he continued towards the man. Either he'd move, or he'd get hit by a truck. The man raised his hand an aura. Looks like it was the latter then. Dove slammed on the gas.

And slammed into the snow. He groggily sat himself up and saw that he was still holding onto the steering wheel, but he wasn't in the truck anymore. In fact, he didn't see the truck anywhere, and just saw stray pieces laying around in the snow, as if the truck had suddenly turned into a deck of cards. Dove watched as a hood flipped over and the soldier stood back up out of the snow, his rifle nestled into his shoulder. Dove stumbled back to his feet and stared down the man. "I'm just here to talk."

"Yeah, sure."

Dove realized that he didn't know where Penny rolled off to. Aura up until he can secure her. "I know the truck thing looks bad, but desperate measures calls for desperate times, you know?" To Dove's amazement, the man slung his rifle behind his back. And then pulled out a machete.

"I'm going to have fun with you." Snickered the exposed mouth. "Number seven."

Dove drew his sword. "We're doing this, aren't we?"

"You know it better than my kind so," he lunged forward, clanging off of Dove's parry, "let's see you dance, monkey."

Dove smacked his sword against the man's left forearm, bouncing it off of the man's aura. "Fine." Parry, parry, back step, tango, and another strike to the man's armored arm. "May I know the name of my killer?"

The man grinned as he pushed down on Dove's guard. "Rot." Gritting in force, he bashed their knuckles into each other has he pushed back.

Dove took this opportunity to strike the man's forearm again. And his cylinder plopped out of the firing mechanism into the snow. Along with some smaller part. This was going to be a pain to pick up after. "Nice name. Name's Bird."

The man blocked another strike inbound for his forearm. "Didn't ask, number seven."

"Fair." Strike number five. The man was already preemptively moving to block his arms and flexing his aura to reduce damage. "So, disassembly? Must be nice."

"Clever dog." Rot scored a clean slash against Dove's pauldron, throwing sparks into the cold night sky. "Figured it out already!" The two traded blows, one to the left forearm, for one to the right thigh.

"Not that hard. You had no fear, and basically are flaking pieces off my gun and armor." Dove took a sidestep back, and the pauldron and thigh plates dropped off of him, along with the belts holding them in place. "Bit too obvious for my tastes, but effective, nonetheless."

"Very acute." Rot deflected a few more blows. "Though I can tell you fight a bit more reserved than the last few templars that came through here."

"Always was told that." Dove went in for the seventh hit.

"But like the rest," Rot locked Dove's sword between his arms, soaked in aura, "Y'all too dependent on your-"

Dove's elbow spiked elbow guard dug into Rot's teeth and lips. His head jerked back, and Dove let go of his sword to grab Rot's collar, and began slamming bloody metal into enamel. It wasn't long before Rot's aura rotted away, and spurted blood. Dove dropped the man into the snow and looked up at the boys cowering in the fort. "What are you looking at?" He rolled his shoulder. Probably going to be sore after this. "Pick him up. I'm here to talk, remember?" Dove walked off and began strapping his armor back to himself.

"I thought you were a goner there." Whispered a soft voice through the static.

Dove instantly dropped the pauldron and kneeled beside Penny. "Oh, thank the brothers you're alright! I thought his semblance might have made you into bolts!"

"He could have. Though I think his semblance can only affect one system at a time."

"I am so glad I didn't plug you in." He grabbed her and wrapped her in his arms.

"I am too, now." Murmured Penny through the hug. "For now, get yourself taken care of. I'm fine."

"Right, right." Dove lifted his mask and fired out a bloody snot globule. "Will do."


	46. Day 46

Eyes drooped open. His mouth felt tingly and dry, as if his mouth was made of cotton. His entire body felt sore. His arm ached. But damn, did his mouth hurt. His swollen tongue lolled on his molars. Lifting the swollen muscle, he graced his teeth one by one, till he found a gap. The templar had knocked out one of his incisors. Or at least chipped a good forty percent of it off. Rot hissed as his tongue touched his open nerve.

"You're up." Commented the templar as he rested against his armoire. "Feeling any better?"

Rot lifted himself off of his back. "Everything hurts." Slurred Rot.

"He did hit you with a truck." Commented a second voice.

"I did hit him with a truck," echoed the templar.

Rot touched his tooth with his finger and flinched. "Why am I alive?"

"We came here to talk. Not to kill you guys."

"Why talk when you could have easily mopped the floor with us." Rot felt up the bandages on his face. "Much easier than talking."

"Yeah, but then I'd have to kill all of you." Admitted the templar. "A lot more annoying and ethically problematic."

"That, and the likelihood of one of you surviving, and swearing a blood oath to kill us, spanning the course of multiple books, increases significantly." Chimed in the second voice.

Rot watched as the templar stifled a laugh. "What she said." He leaned his head back, and with a solid thunk, rested it on the cabinet. "Aw jeez."

"Are we a joke to you? Like all of us?" Asked Rot. "Because it seems like you're not worried about us. You just act without a care."

The templar sighed. "No, you're not a joke, and I'd wish you'd teach your boys that. I'm just tired and have had a long week."

"He really has."

"Who is that second voice." Complained Rot. "And what do you guys what?"

"First of all, I am a female." Corrected the voice from out of sight. "And secondly, if you had listened to my friend here, you would know that we only came here to talk. Simply needed a show of force to bring you to the bargaining table."

"You know they're not going to listen to me, right? I lost. I'm no longer the strongest."

"I hit you with a truck." The templar balked. "Of course, you lost. You already were on the back foot."

"I've won all the other fights. What's going to stop them from killing me once you guys leave."

"The fact that we're going to stick around for a day or two to solidify the trade details."

"You're not a templar, are you?"

"Ding, ding, ding!" Chimed the not-templar. "You can call me Bird."

"And me, Penny."

"I thought I asked you to use a fake name."

"What was I supposed to use? Most of the names you suggested were terrible!"

"No, they were not. They. Worked."

"Mr. Rot, do you think, quote, unquote, Pence, would have been a good fake name? With my name as Penny."

Rot really didn't care. He just felt really sore. "Uh, sure. I, uh, what? Yeah, Pence is fine."

"See?"

"This test is void! He is obviously concussed!" Squealed the feminine voice.

"Won't change the fact we're about to get a treaty out of him." The not-templar turned back to him. "So, you ready to hear us out, or do you want a drink first?"

Rot froze. "Don't tell me. Did you raid my collection?" He was bristling. No one touches Rot's stash.

"Uh, no. Most of it was soda."

Rot dropped back onto the bed. "Thank the gods."

"Why do you have so much Canta?" Hissed the not-templar. Not aggressively, Rot could tell, but as if he was prepared to back off on a touchy subject.

"I like Canta." Defiantly defended Rot.

"You do know that it is just syrup, right? It's not even sugar water."

"You can't put a price on nostalgia."

"Two-ninety-five."

"You know that's not what I meant." Moaned Rot.

"I know. Bad habit." Admitted the not-templar. He wasn't going to call him Bird. What kind of self-respecting person chooses to go by the name Bird? Surname, maybe, but first name? "So why not Fofo-fola?"

"Canta is inherently Atlassian." Explained Rot from his mat. "It brings back memories."

"Canta only entered production about seven years ago, due to the rationing that caused Fofo-fola, the parent company, to stop sending them the ingredients."

"And?" Rot stared at the masked man incredulously. "Just because Fofo-fola is a Vale product, doesn't mean that Canta is as well. Canta is the product of Atlas finding a way to deal with the war in its own way and making the best of it. An era of suffering, sure, but one in which people made do, and pushed as hard as they could. Don't disparage them."

The not-templar fell silent. Then he nodded along. "Understood." Another long sigh. "Want one?"

"Not now. I just got my butt served on a platter to me." Rot groaned. "No reason to celebrate it."

"Can I have one then?" Asked the not-templar, almost too innocently.

Rot was about to tear into him. He could feel the bile building up in him. But no. It would be wrong to do so. The strong took as they pleased. "Fine. You won after all."

"Cool, thanks." The not-templar popped open the armoire and picked up a chilled bottle. Not that it was a fridge, it was that everything was always chilled when you were in the frozen wastes that used to be Atlas. The not-templar slid off his mask, and placed it on the table, revealing his face. Almond eyes, chestnut brown bangs, light stubble. A bit bruised and banged up. He took a sip, and his face soured. "This is flat."

"Yeah."

He put down the bottled syrup. "Why do you have a cabinet of flat soda?"

"Nostalgia?" Asked Pence.

"Nostalgia." Confirmed Rot.

"Are we going to actually do the negotiation talk now?" Pence sounded as if she was done with the not-templar's shenanigans. "The sooner we get done, the sooner you can show me the ocean, if that is still the plan."

The not-templar's expression sobered. "Right. Don't want to spend too much time here. Go wants to initiate trade and a non-aggression pact."

"Who is this Go?"

"The guy, girl, can't tell, too much smoker voice, in charge of the insane religious folks."

"They're insane followers of Salem. Why should we stop?"

"An y'all are insane racists. Why should they stop?"

Rot paused. "There's another reason why they're proposing this isn't there?"

"Both of your water reserves are poisoned, there's little food to go around, and both of you could be flattened by a traveling grimm herd." Explained the not-templar. "The way they see it, neither of you will be around, nor have people to protect much longer if you two keep chipping away at each other like this."

"And why or how should I trust him when they send an animal to do their business?"

The not-templar palmed his face. "I'm not an animal. Not a faunus. No animal trait."

"You do know that all faunus have two traits, right?" Fact-checked Rot. "You do know that your eyes count as one of them?"

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. If they're a species without night vision, they usually inherit a second trait. Like the ears and the tail. Or like the third eyelid on some of those reptiles. It's a thing. Look it up."

"Wasn't that written by some really racist guy back two-hundred years ago?"

Rot grimaces and waved his hand a bit. "Just because he was really off about a lot of things, doesn't mean that he didn't have some facts right."

"And how do you know?" The not-templar didn't trust him. Distrust. Makes sense. He was a dirty animal.

"I used my semblance on a corpse."

"Oh." The not-templar shifted uncomfortably. "Still, not a faunus."

"Indeed. He is not a faunus." Confirmed Pence.

"Then why do you wear their regalia? Their armor and insignia."

"Because the armor is good." The not-templar looked down upon him. "I mean, I literally beat you because your armor had a flaw that mine didn't. I found this after a snowstorm."

"You're telling me that one of the templars died from a storm? The knights of the witch? One was killed by the cold?"

"Yeah."

Rot could hardly believe it. "Wow. They were a real struggle to go against, and one just up and freezes to death. Don't mess with nature, I guess."

"Guess so."

"So, what does Go want?"

"Go wants to trade your dirty food and water for clean food and water. Maybe share some equipment." Explained the not-templar. "I'm looking for three-fifty-seven, if you've got any."

"Dude." Rot stared at him with a concerned look. "They stopped making three-fifty-seven like six years ago. Standardized ammunition. No one uses that relic of a caliber."

"Well, I do." The man snarled. "Just trying to find any. Do you have any? At all?"

"No." Rot sighed. "But sure, if this Go can prove that they can make the food and water edible, then maybe we'll stop trying to raid them. It's not a terrible idea. Anything else?"

The man grinned. Rot did not like that grin. "We're going to raid the Stone Mile."

"That's a terrible idea."


	47. Day 47

It had been difficult, but Dove had been able to convince Rot and Go to meet. Well, mostly Rot. Not in public though, never in public. It would be for the best that if both sides believed that their leaders refused the other. She had insisted. It was how politics worked and Dove thankfully was the muscle to her statements. Eventually, all parties arrived, Penny could not help but feel satisfaction as Rot pulled his sullen, sodden body from the reservoir, and dropped himself onto the stony pathway along the wall of the cavern. Satisfaction from seeing him miserable. She was unsure if she should be feeling this way and would most likely need to run a diagnostic afterwards. Rot leaned against the laid wall. Even with her knowledge of stone working, no matter how limited, it was obvious that these stone formations were not natural, even if it had a passing semblance of a sea cliff.

"Alright. I'm here." Grouched the soaked Rot. "Let's shake on it and get this over with."

Go handed Rot a cloth to dry their hands with, and a pristine, pure, dried piece of meat from their robes. "Here you go. Evidence of what I can do."

Rot snatched them from their hands, wiped his own, and tore into the jerky. "This has no flavor," he grimaced.

"Unfortunately, my semblance removes all foreign bodies, including pepper." Admitted Go.

Rot sneered. "Great." He still took another bite. "So, I just leave contaminated gross foods in an area, and you clean them for us?"

"In return, I will take a small tax for my people, and we agree to avoid each other's factions. Fair?"

"How much are we talking about?" Rot sneered. "I don't want you running off with all of our food."

"About fifty percent," shrugged Go.

"That's absurd!" Cursed Rot, spittle flying from his lips.

"You were not going to eat it anyways!" Shot back Go.

"Might as well destroy it if you're going to rob us!"

Dove, who was leaning against the wall, raised his hand to silence them both, before they could escalate further. "Shut it. You want all the grimm to hear us? You're both emitting so much, even I'd pop a tent of murderous intent."

"Now, now Bird. If they spoke a little bit quieter, then their factions would be able to clearly hear them." Helpfully supplied Penny. Penny could see why Dove found this fun. Sarcasm, that is, not politics. She could never enjoy politics.

The two shut their mouths. "Thanks Pence." Dove leaned into their conversation. "So, now that you've been put into time out, I'm going to ask a few questions, ok? Okay, don't care if you agree or not, it's going to happen." Dove first turned to Rot. "So, what would you use the food for, if you don't leave it at the drop point?"

"Bury it. Maybe do a little farming in the four months without snow."

"And what would be the best ratio for you?

"I would say all of it, but I get the feeling you would push me into the reservoir."

"I would most definitely push you into the reservoir."

"That's what I thought." Rot grumbled. "Thirty percent, since we can use the food to make other food later, if we don't trade it?"

"What about forty percent then?"

"Forty percent!" Exclaimed Rot. "I'm getting even less now?"

"Chill. No. I meant he, she, whatever, gets forty. You get the sixty." Explained Dove, exasperatedly.

"Really?" Even Penny could hear the sass.

"It's dirty food upfront, for about the same amount of food."

Rot moaned. "Fine."

"That good with you Go?"

"Yeah, that works for me," shrugged Go. "I mainly want the non-aggression pact."

"Really? And what would that consist of, oh, supposedly Great One?" Penny knew that Rot rolled his eyes, even if she could not see through his visor.

"Just don't raid us. Maybe?" Go sounded really uncertain. "I can probably convince my idiots to stay inside most of the time."

"And how am I supposed to convince my men to do so, without looking weak?" Fair point, for once.

"Dunno, maybe say that even though you lost, my templar figured out that only he was prepared to fight you, and that he surrendered to you, in return for the relief of the Malt?" Spitballed Go. "Maybe?"

"Maybe you can convince your ranks that you beat me in a rematch, because I did not fight you honorably the first time? Only won through treachery?" Tacked on Dove.

Rot raised three digits. "One, I actively encourage taking every advantage you can get. Only the strong survive. Two, there's no reason why we wouldn't just pillage your cavern if we already had your strongest warrior out of the way. And three, templars don't have an honor code."

"Then why are they called templars?" Asked a dumbfounded Dove.

"Iconography." Answered Go. "Propaganda. You get the idea."

"Oh." Dove appeared to be at a loss.

"You could always surrender to me, Go."

"No. Out of the question." Go raised their arms in an 'X'. "Not happening."

"Your boys will be right at home."

"I know what the Rebel Boys do to females. I'm not doing that to my flock."

"Oh, c'mon."

"No means no, Rot." Sneered Dove. "Think of something else."

The four of them stood in the dark, damp cavern for a bit thinking. Then Penny chipped in. "What if we had it so the, quote, unquote, templar wanted to raid the Wall. Then, if you, Rot, hypothetically killed this templar, and took his mask as a prize, along with an item from the Wall, then no one would question your strength as leader. In addition, you could have it so your dominance is established, and Go here gives tribute in clean food, which just so happens to be the new dumping ground for your soiled food. Go gets their peace treaty and some food, you keep your power and establish dominance, and Bird and I get what we need from the Wall, and leave this place, no evidence."

"Only evidence is a verbal agreement between us." Affirmed Dove. "You think you can do that?"

Go and Rot looked at each other. Then looked back at Dove and Penny. "Yeah, but then there's the problem of the wall," Chimed in Go.

"There's no way to attack it." Confirmed Rot. "I've tried."

"Really?" Go sounded interested.

"Technically I told a newbie to try, and he got killed for it, so kind of."

"That's what I thought."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Could you two stop bickering with each other and how impossible this is, and start working on making this work?" Dove sneered.

"Well, I haven't agreed if I'll even be a part of this." Rot snubbed.

"You're going to be replaced if you go back a loser." Corrected Dove. "You have even less of a choice than Go."

Rot seethed, but ultimately backed down. "Fine. Any thoughts Go?"

"No not really." Shrugged Go. "I don't really see many vantages."

"Armor?" Suggested Dove.

"Doesn't do anything against that caliber." Answered Rot.

"Digging?"

"We don't have six months to dig a tunnel." Answered Go. "Even if I could get them to do that."

"Right." Dove tapped his foot. "What if we went from above!"

"You would not survive landing." Answered Penny. "I did the calculations. You would either be shot from the sky, die upon impact, or miss the wall entirely, and still die on impact. And this is we can even find a way to fire you up that high."

"Damn." Dove cursed. "I guess I'm at a loss."

The four fell back into silence thinking. They knew they needed an answer, and fast. But there was something that was not adding up for Penny. Something strange. "Bird. Why did you mention the grimm before you mentioned their followers? They should be closer to us than the grimm."

Dove stopped tapping his foot for a moment and faced the wall. "Of course." He groaned. "Of course. It makes sense."

"What does?" Asked Go.

"Seriously, you're not making sense." Accused Rot.

"I picked up the grimm first, unconsciously." Laughed Dove. "I felt its eyes on us. Because." Dove stared directly into the stonework. "There is a grimm, right behind this wall."

"Okay. What are you trying to say?"

"The reservoir is a lot bigger than we thought it was. And," Dove punched the stone. "If there's a grimm I can feel through this wall, it either means that the grimm is huge, or this wall isn't that thick. Either way, there's more cavern here we can travel through."

"And?" Shifted Go.

"I bet you, that from this position, less than a third of a mile from the Wall, we can use the reservoir to get underneath it. No mass digging. No flying, no death charge. Just a grimm to kill, and we drop the distance to the wall by hundreds of feet."

"Making this venture very possible." Finished Rot. "I like this. So, where do we begin?"

"Everyone, hold your breath." Quietly commented Go. Go placed their hand on the wall, and centuries of dust, lichen, moss, and mold fell off of the wall before Dove. A six-by-four-foot area of the wall was clean of any obstructions. "We begin here."

"Right-o." Rot covered his fist in aura, and punched it into the wall, causing the wall to crumble like a house of cards, brick flying inwards. Dust flew into the air. When the dust settled, the four saw a wide-open cavern, going outwards and downwards into pitch black darkness. "Think we found our ticket."

Penny could feel Dove's smugness. "Think we did." While Penny was glad that Dove was enjoying his ingenuity, she was far more distracted by a stone engraving along one of the walls in this cavern. Too small for most to see it. An eye. Crying. Surrounded by a circle. Salem's symbol. "Looks like we're crossing the Stone Mile."

"Tomorrow." Panted Rot. "That took a lot out of me."

"Not just you." Rested Go. "I'm basically running on red as well."

Dove looked disappointed. "Seriously guys?"

Go looked up at Dove. "I'm sorry that you don't have a semblance that uses up your aura and energy. But we do."

"Ow. Harsh. Fine." Whined Dove. "I'll keep guard. You two rest up."

Penny could not help herself. "You really mean me, did you not?"

"You know it." Clicked Dove as he rested in the new door-frame. "Wake me up if anything down there moves."

"Affirmative."


	48. Day 48

Using his scroll, Dove shined a light down into the murky darkness. Inky black darkness filling the water. While the water level was about two feet lower than the water on the other side, his light could only go down about twenty feet into the darkness. Not anywhere close enough to see what grimm lurked in the darkness. It stared at him, just out of view. He could feel it. "Y'all ready?"

Rot pulled out his machete and Go extended a quarterstaff from their sleeve. They nodded in tandem. The three braced themselves, weapons extended, waiting for the grimm to move. A massive white mask began arising from the darkness of below. A set of six eye sockets, each two feet wide. It rose to the surface and settled. The sockets were empty. No red eyes. Scratch that, there were a set of small beady eyes in one of the sockets. A smaller mask rested in the eye socket, connected to an octopus-like grimm. While it screamed at them with the hatred of a grudge long buried to the sands of time, it sounded more like a dog toy. The three of them stood on the ledge of the uncovered reservoir and looked down at this four-inch grimm. "Are you serious?

"Yes Rot, I believe it is serious. Please hold your laughter," snickered Go.

"Pence, can grimm shrink?" Asked Dove.

"It has been hypothesized that grimm can shrink and reduce in lethality when deprived of negative emotions for long durations of time. However, the time span it takes to do so takes much longer than the amount of time for it to be practical in laboratory or field testing."

"So, is that a yes?"

"With enough time, and a near to complete lack of negative emotions to feed on, grimm should shrink in size. At least in theory."

"And if it had been sitting in this cavern for a long time, it could shrink from that larger size, molt its shell armor, and become what it is now?" Dove asked, as the creature hissed at them again, attempting to intimidate them.

"Based on the stonework style, this reservoir was made almost 2000 years ago. The wall we unceremoniously destroyed was put into place more than 1500 years ago."

"So, this guy has been sitting behind this wall for 1500 years. And shrunk."

"Affirmative."

"Wow." It squealed again. "Gentlemen, ready. Aim. Fire." And then the three figures pointed and laughed. Much to the protest of the miniature. This continued for a good five minutes.

Eventually they stopped, and Rot asked, "So, who gets the honors?"

Dove recovered and held his chest. "I don't care about getting to kill a millennium old grimm. But I would like the plate that it's resting on. Grimm plates are super hard to find."

"Especially with how they dissolve upon death. First time I've seen a specimen of this size," admitted Go. "But I am fine with letting you kill it."

"What's the catch." Glanced Rot.

"May I ask to claim this part of the reservoir? Unless you'd like us to have to make another hole on your end?"

"No, I guess, that's fair. Mr. Templar gets his bone plate, you get access to this mess, and I get the honors. Fantastic." Rot picked up a brick.

"What are you doing with that."

"Going to use it to crush it."

"Really?"

The tentacled grimm jumped up onto the wall of the reservoir and began crawling its way up onto the pathway the three were standing on. As soon as it surmounted the corner of the walkway, Rot began slowly pressing down upon it with the brick. "Yeah. I mean, why not?"

"It just seems a little inhumane." The tiny grimm was screaming as it attempted in vain to prevent its demise.

"Really?" Rot put the extra little bit of force and made the once fearsome grimm a black stain on the stone. "Didn't mean to." He lifted the stone to see the grimm already evaporating. "That better?"

"Forget it. Congratulations, you have killed one of the oldest grimm known to man. How do you feel?"

"Pretty good. So, we good?"

"We haven't even made it to the Wall," deadpanned Dove as he fished out the plate from the water. "So, not yet."

"So, off to the Wall then?"

"Once we fill the holes in this mask, yeah. Might be able to use it as a boat." Dove began trying to use all sorts of different material to fill the massive eye sockets.

"Today a millennium old grimm, tomorrow, the Wall."

"Why does the Wall sound far more threatening?" Murmured Go.

"Because it totally is."


	49. Day 49

It wasn't easy taking care of a kid in this new world. Taking care of one and being stuck on vault duty was even worse. Getting transferred was a difficulty, but she was glad she finally was able to do so. It was a brutal world out there. The sea should do good things for his lungs. A somewhat sickly child, but that's what happens when the kid can't drink milk cause the mother couldn't get enough to eat herself. Not anymore though. Those days were behind her and him. All that were ahead were long days on the dock, and a little something something for herself.

"You smoking on break again, 435?" Asked a voice behind her.

435 took one final drag, and flicked the cigarette butt out to sea. "Sorry geezer. But I don't think what I do on my breaks concern you."

"I guess not. Kid is asking for you though."

"Thanks. Appreciate you looking out for them." 435 patted the man's shoulder through their rain slicker.

"Think nothing of it." Grinned the yellow teeth of the man. "You look after the town; I make sure the kids stay out trouble. Not enough kids around nowadays."

"You know, if you keep speaking like that, one might think you to be a predator or something."

"Heh-heh-heh, you know me. I'm Mr. Dockworker and you're never going to see your kids again!" The two then began to crack up, leaning on each other, enjoying the sunset. Eventually they recovered, neither knowing how long their cackling had gone on for. "Seriously though, 435, thank you. You have no idea how much more secure the town feels with an actual guard around."

"Just doing my job sir." 435 beamed with pride. "Just doing my job."

The man patted her armored pauldrons. "I know you are. But not everyone does. You up for stew tomorrow?"

"Oh, I couldn't. It would be too rude of me to intrude."

"Think nothing of it. I won't take no for an answer."

A cheeky smile showed up on her face. "Now, now, one might suspect you of ulterior motives with that sort of language Mr. Creepy Dockworker."

Gnarled teeth grinned back. "Now, Ms. Guard, what could you mean by that?"

The two enjoyed another laugh. "If I cannot refuse, then I guess I'll have to invite my son as well. He always seemed to like crab."

"That little rascal has been eating nothing but the thing since you two have moved here."

"Is that right? I wonder who keeps spoiling him like that. I know it's not me~"

Black pearly eyes echoed the shimmer of the sea. "I guess you got me Ms. Guard."

"You know I did. I get everyone."


	50. Day 50

The oversized mask drifted underneath a divot in the ceiling. The figures glanced at each other in the dark.

A steel mask glared in the dark. "Are you sure we're in the right place this time?"

A visor reflected his annoyance. "Yes, I swear we're in the right place."

"You said that last time and we got a boat load of literal piss."

The hooded figure spoke up. "Well technically, most of it went into the water."

"You know what I mean Go."

"Either way, we're in the right place." Rot grimaced.

"So, we're not going to pop up into a septic tank?"

"No."

"Or gunfire?"

"We're too low for that."

"You said it was one-hundred percent impossible to get buried from the last one. And then we were covered in piss and poop. And dirty water of other dubious origins."

Go tapped the ceiling. "Are we going to burst here or not?"

"As soon as Rot can guarantee that his measurement is accurate this time."

"Well, if you had a problem with it, why didn't you do it!"

"I tried to! But apparently, I'm the only one who knows how to steer a boat! Like seriously, how do you two not know how to steer a boat!"

"I was measuring distance!"

"That's total malarkey!"

Go took a sip out of their canteen. "I've never been on the water before, actually."

"Just clean off the surface so I can collapse it." Grunted Rot.

"Okay." Moss and lichens dropped off the stone.

"It better be right this time." Glared Dove.

"It is." Rot stuck his hands into a crack and yanked the first large stone out of place. With a surge of aura, a large collection of human sized stones dropped into the reservoir, revealing what appeared to be stone brick. With a second surge, an opening was made.

"Huh. Good job."

"See." Panted Rot. "Told you."

"I mean I was saying you did good. And he's unconscious, isn't he."

Go prodded the body with a toe. "Yep."

"Why do I get the feeling that this might have gotten much harder."

"It might have." The two then moved their makeshift boat and ally into the room and leaned the slump bodies against the wall. "How's Penny doing?"

"Had to put her into low power mode. No sunlight. You know how it is."

"Not really, but not particularly invested in trying to find out what you mean by that." Go extended their quarterstaff as they canvased the room. "Know what this room is?"

Dove drew his gun sword and checked his cylinder. "Appears to be a med bay of sorts. Probably was gutted when they pulled back from the Wall."

"You want to put him on one of the beds?"

"Not really. Getting him out of the cavern was difficult enough."

"We're just moving him up onto a bed."

"He'll be fine."

Go looked back at the crooked neck of Rot, resting awkwardly against the wall. "I'm moving him."

"Have fun with that." Dove moved close to the door and cracked it ajar. "We're in the underground levels of the Wall. If we want the armory, it should be on this floor." He looked back at Go, still struggling with the slack body of Rot. "You ready?"

"No!" Grunted Go. "Of course I'm not! He's not on the bed yet!"

"You know what, just keep this place locked down. I'll be moving ahead," sighed Dove. "It's not like you need anything from here anyways."

"Fair." Go rested the slack jawed face of Rot on an empty bed. "Go on then."

"Alright." Dove looked down the hallway and sprinted to the next out-cove, a good thirty feet away. From what he knew, the Stone Mile was still active. The two Atlas droids looking at him as if they were going through a boot sequence told him as much. Only an additional thirty feet between him and the two bucket-heads. But it was just his luck that, as soon as he comes out into the hallway, two tin-cans are going to walk out of maintenance. Dove took a step forward, only to see them both raise their rifles in return. With bullets ricocheting off of his armor and aura, Dove opens the door behind him, and slams it shut. A pair of droids rifle him from this side of the door as well, but ten feet is much less intimidating than thirty. Both fold like cards. A large oak desk is slid up against door with some effort. Should delay them a little bit. He turned around and saw a large wall of wires, lights, and sockets. And a camera, watching his every move. The pounding on the door grew louder. He had royally screwed up, incredibly quickly. In fact, he was kind of impressed how fast he did so. Probably a world record or something. Nothing he could do. "Huh. Darn." Time to act fast.

* * *

**PP:** Hello?

**AU:** Query: How have you gained access to this system?

**PP:** Unless a direct contact is made with another system, through a wire or some other appliance. Please do not shoot the intruders.

**AU:** Orders: Eliminate all intruders. Protect Atlas.

**PP:** Do not eliminate intruders in Sublevel 1. Override Code: In for a Penny.

**AU:** In for a Pound. Code Accepted. Additional Orders?

**PP:** Continue defending the wall. Standby for further instruction.

**AU:** Affirmative.

* * *

"Did that do the trick?" Called Penny from the tiny speaker.

Dove rested against the battered door. The robots had tried breaking it down, and it was just about to break off of its hinges. "Think so. Feeling better?"

"Much better! Thank you!"

"No problem. Is the Wall sentient?"

"On a technical level, yes. It was designed to be able to manage the droids as an officer would, in lieu of one."

"You think we can make a deal with it?"

Penny paused. "I am its superior officer. I can order it. A deal is unnecessary."

"Would that require you to stay here?"

"Potentially. I can now see why you planned on a deal."

"Plan?" Dove snickered, and then winced. "Not the plan, but I've gotten very good at on the fly diplomacy lately, for some reason."

"Understood. The plan is to make a deal between the Wall's Artificial Unit, Go, and Rot?"

"Affirmative, yeah, sure, ow."


	51. Day 51

**BW:** Alright Pence, everyone should be set up. Think we can run rollcall?

**PP:** Affirmative. Order: Initiate rollcall 5/5.

**AU:** Affirmative. Rollcall 2/5.

**BW:** Present.

**AU:** Rollcall 3/5.

**GO:** Present.

**AU:** Rollcall 4/5.

**BW:** Rot? Are you on?

**GO:** He should be. We set up his keyboard.

**BW:** I'll be back. I'll check on him.

**GO:** So. This is new.

**PP:** Not really. This is an older version of this software. Most people attempted to integrate text to speech into their assistants. Very few versions still use the text logs.

**GO:** Still, feels kind of novel.

**PP:** It really is not. Your lack of experience with this technology only makes it seem as such.

**GO:** Rot and Bird are arguing pretty loudly. What do you think is going on?

**PP:** Unsure. We can ask them when they return. It would be much more convenient if we all could be in the server room to communicate with AU, but unfortunately, it does not understand the concept of multiple users on a single account.

**GO:** So that's why I'm in one of the offices. Okay. Makes sense.

**AU:** Rollcall 4/5.

**GO:** What about multiple keyboards?

**PP:** It will interpret the keypresses as the same account. This is why I had to make new accounts for you and Rot. It is akin to having two mice connected to the same monitor.

**GO:** Right, right. Makes sense. What about Bird? Why can he still be in the server room?

**PP:** I can communicate directly with AU. Bird can use his scroll as his account. Therefore, even if it seems like the same system, it is not, as the scroll is not normally part of my system.

**RT:** Here.

**AU:** Rollcall 5/5. Initiating meeting. Good evening Penny Polendina, how can I help you today?

**PP:** Standby for further orders. BW has to get back online.

**BW:** Back.

**GO:** What happened?

**BW:** You want to explain it Rot, or would you rather me?

**RT:** How about we don't.

**BW:** I'll take that as have me do it.

**BW:** Essentially, Rot doesn't know how to use a keyboard. Or technology in general. A Luddite.

**RT:** That's blowing it out of proportion. I do too.

**BW:** Because I just showed you how to use the keyboard. And how to open the channel. How did you not know how to use a keyboard? Atlas was the most technologically advanced before its fall.

**RT:** I forgot. Years of not using one. Can you blame me?

**GO:** No.

**BW:** Yes.

**PP:** Are you three done? I would like to eventually leave here before my fans rust.

**BW:** Think so.

**GO:** Yes.

**RT:** Fine.

**PP:** AU, I will now call this meeting to order.

**AU:** Affirmative. What is the purpose of this meeting?

**PP:** A mutual agreement between GO, RT, and AU.

**AU:** Affirmative. What does this agreement contain?

**PP:** The floor is yours.

**GO:** Could you stop shooting us?

**AU:** Error: Define "us".

**GO:** I can see why there is a difficulty in dealing with you. Us as in the Acolytes of the Malt.

**AU:** Error: Define "Acolytes of the Malt".

**GO:** Should I even try Pence?

**PP:** You have to be more specific. Understand that this system is not very intelligent, and mostly is working off of an order to prevent invaders into Atlas.

**GO:** Why do I get the feeling that we're going to need to make clearances for each and every one of our members.

**RT:** If we do, that's going to be such a pain in the arse.

**PP:** You most likely will.

**RT:** What's the point of even trying then?

**PP:** Do you want to continue fearing the Stone Mile?

**RT:** I see now.

**PP:** AU, access clearance list. Create classifications "Disciples of the Malt", and "Rebel Boys."

**AU:** Affirmative. Would you like to add any members to either of these new classifications?

**PP:** Add user GO into "Disciples of the Malt", and user RT into "Rebel Boys."

**AU:** Affirmative. Users added. Any other settings you would like to edit?

**PP:** Provide admin access to GO and RT for their respective classifications.

**AU:** You are providing admin access to two accounts which do not have secret clearance. Input override code and identification.

**PP:** In for a Penny; Penny Polendina, Protector of Mantle.

**AU:** Access granted. Please wait 24 hours for admin access to be added.

**RT:** Wait, that Penny? The failed protector? The one what was smashed like a porcelain doll?

**PP:** Unfortunately, yes. I am that Penny.

**RT:** How are you still alive?

**PP:** I am not human in the standard sense.

**RT:** So, not human then.

**PP:** If you wish to clarify it as so, then yes, not human.

**RT:** Didn't you defect?

**BW:** Why are you asking? What pertinence does this have?

**RT:** If she's a defector, then she's partially responsible for the downfall of Atlas.

**BW:** She wasn't. I found her in an Atlas Vault.

**PP:** Technically speaking, for a time, I was considered a compromised asset. The initial attack on Atlas forced General Ironwood to make judgements that he did not have enough information to wisely make. However, I was able to reinstate myself an assist in the defense of Atlas before its fall.

**RT:** Heard something about that.

**PP:** Where were you when Atlas fell?

**RT:** Don't want to talk about it. Besides, can't we just get the agreement over with?

**PP:** Cannot. In order to prevent infiltrators from dismantling the security system by taking another person's identification, there is a 24-hour lockout after attempting to give admin access to users who were not cleared.

**RT:** Then why is it even an option.

**PP:** Wartime pressures. If the superior officers are KIA, unit commanders may be required to assume control. In addition, each section of the wall had its own Automated Unit. This is Automated Unit 79. Each section had different permissions, and only officers and technicians who operated on a specific section of wall had admin access on their portions of wall. However, if they were required to shift sectors, or increase their area of command, they would also need to be added.

**RT:** Right.

**GO:** Well, Rot, if you don't feel comfortable telling where you were at the fall of Atlas, I was huddled in a bunker.

**RT:** How come?

**GO:** I was, like, 16.

**RT:** Weren't all men supposed to pick up a rifle and fight?

**GO:** I'm not a man.

**RT:** Seriously? You sound like one.

**GO:** I just have a smoker voice. And none of you ever asked what gender I was.

**BW:** I thought it would be rude.

**GO:** Sure you did.

**RT:** Wait. Wouldn't that put you at like, 19, 20?

**RT:** 21?

**GO:** Yes.

**RT:** Well this is awkward.

**BW:** So where were you Rot?

**RT:** Wall segment 84.

**PP:** I am sorry for your loss.

**RT:** Thanks, but you don't need to be.

**BW:** Historical context please?

**GO:** The grimm focused on every sixth segment. Kept feeling out until they could breach. Supposedly one of the most valuable assets of Atlas was lost attempting to stop a breach at 84.

**BW:** Oh.

**PP:** Rot, why did you not recognize the name Penny when Bird accidentally mention it the first time we met?

**RT:** I thought it was a common name. I knew a couple people who named their kids Penny after the Protector of Mantle. Also, didn't know you were just a server.

**BW:** Seriously?

**RT:** I thought it was like something stuck to your aura. Like that one aura parasite thing that has been popping up.

**BW:** What parasite thing?

**RT:** It popped up in my camp. One of the boys who had no aura, suddenly got it, and started acting weird. Started saying that we need to listen to him. Sometimes he would be himself, but he became increasingly forceful. Saying that he knew how to stop her, and how we needed to drop everything to stop her. It just got too much.

**RT:** So I unlocked every kid's aura in the camp, and suffocated him with a pillow. If he was going to latch on and start puppeting one of my boys, then I'd make it impossible for him to do so again. He can't latch onto kids with aura. Not letting him lead my boys to their deaths.

**BW:** Oh. I'm sorry to hear about that.

**RT:** Don't be. Sometimes I forget that the are the bigger threats, after dealing with Go and grimm for so long.

**BW:** Right. Penny, why does this sound so familiar?

**PP:** Mr. Skink told us about something like that. The counterpart to Salem.

**BW:** Ah. Makes sense.

**GO:** That does explain why the Acolyte had rhetoric on why everyone should have their aura unlocked as soon as possible.

**BW:** I thought aura amplified emotions, making them attract grimm more.

**GO:** While true, if one gives even basic training to those with aura, then it isn't an issue. Especially if you teach restraint. He also taught that the sooner you unlock it, the more expressive your soul would become, and the more protection you would have from what he called the Leech.

**GO:** Supposedly. From the doctrine that I've read.

**BW:** It sounds like he was letting people get strong enough to challenge him.

**GO:** Supposedly, it didn't matter. He had the ability to essentially negate aura with his semblance.

**BW:** That sounds busted. How did it function?

**GO:** Essentially, he could have another person's aura match the strength of his own. He reduces the aura on his hands to nearly zero, so where he cuts, their aura there is essentially zero, allowing him to cut right through it, without the other party realizing that their aura was dropped to zero.

**BW:** Huh. Sounds like a really messed up dude.

**RT:** So that's why all the templars are armored to heck and back. Like oysters.

**GO:** Essentially. Though I do not like that comparison.

**RT:** Heh. Whatever.

**GO:** Fine. Bird, where were you when Atlas fell?

**BW:** Down south, across the channel. I only came up here just over a year ago.

**GO:** Oh, that's interesting.

**RT:** Are you saying that because you don't want to admit where you were?

**BW:** I'm saying it that way because I don't know exactly when Atlas fell.

**RT:** Fair enough.

**PP:** I was in a vault.

**RT:** Where?

**PP:** Classified.

**RT:** Damn it.

**BW:** What's your plans after we get this deal done?

**GO:** Figure out how to clean the water and maintain a sustainable source of food and water.

**RT:** Kill the last ten templars.

**BW:** Why do you want to kill the templars so badly?

**RT:** Who do you think were the lieutenants who helped bring down the wall.

**BW:** Oh. So its personal then.

**RT:** Pretty much. Just making my way through them.

**BW:** And their leader?

**GO:** He's dead.

**BW:** What?

**GO:** He got blown up with a massive portion of Atlas. It was a last-ditch tactic from the Atlassians. They'd rather have them own a crater than their city. Took out him and a major part of the offensive. While Atlas had already lost, the number of grimm lost is still felt to this day.

**RT:** Brothers bless Atlassian technology.

**GO:** Sure. Okay. So we're just waiting now?

**PP:** Affirmative.

**GO:** Great.

**GO:** Bird, you want to keep making fun of Rot's inability to use technology?

**BW:** Would I!

**RT:** Brothers damn it.


	52. Day 52

Of course, there wasn't any. Dove slid back the crate of ammunition on the rack. He had to admit that Go was right. Only two-two-three and twenty mil. So that was a bust.

"Any luck?" Called Penny from outside the armory.

Dove stepped out, and patted the droid carrying Penny on its back, on its back. "Nope. You have any luck here?"

"Not particularly. While I can communicate with it, like I could AU, it uses a different operating system."

"So, you can't take over it."

"I cannot."

"How so?"

"Different operating system."

"No, I understood that part. Why is that a problem?"

"Oh, that is what you meant." Commented Penny with a new sense of understanding. "Essentially, it thinks differently than I do, so attempting to copy paste myself over to it would not go cleanly. Either one of us would need to be refitted for the other."

"Makes sense. Kind of AU to let us take one of the droids."

"I mean, I did sort of order her to give us one of the droids. That and Rot accidentally caused her to have a mental breakdown, knowing that she technically failed her orders to protect Atlas."

"Yeah, that wasn't fun." Admitted Dove. "Glad you set her memory back an hour, and made sure that they wouldn't do anything stupid."

"I do what I can."

Go turned around the corner, and with a gasp, exclaimed, "Just the people I was looking for!"

"Really? How come Go?"

"I wanted to thank you two. I really thought we would be in a stalemate, for the rest of time." She snickered. "But now I know that I have a lot of work on the table, and work needs to be done."

"That you do." Smiled Dove. "Oh, before you go, think there was a box of cigarettes in the officer's desk."

"Thank you. One last thing, though." Go placed her hand on Dove's chest plate, and a surge of aura washed over him. He felt cleansed and watched as a pile of black silt and dust accumulated beneath him. "Take some more showers. You really smell sometimes."

"I'll keep it in mind." Dove patted her on her back as she walked off. "Be safe."

Penny's droid plodded forward, clumsily. "Time to leave?"

"Not yet. Got one last thing to hand off."

* * *

It took him a while to find him. Rot was sitting at the top of the wall, staring out upon miles of white dusty snow. A smooth blanket. A blank slate, waiting for someone to do something. His helmet was in his hands, fingers idling over the etching in the visor.

"Rot, mind if I take a look at that for a moment?"

He looked up at Dove. Tired. Bags. Not so much fear, but confusion. His enemy had made peace, and he had lived to fight. A tired hand lifted the helmet. "Sure."

Dove brushed past one of the droids manning the wall and took a seat next to Rot. Using his sword, he carved another tally mark into the helm. "Number seven. You've still got ten more."

"But I didn't kill the seventh one. I don't deserve it."

Dove slid off his mask. His faceplate. And handed it over to Rot, along with the helmet. "You may not have killed him, but would it make them happy knowing that you're avenging them, slowly but surely?"

"Maybe. But I thought being consumed with revenge was a bad thing?"

"But you weren't. You made a deal with what was your worst enemy. Sure, it's a secret, and only the five of us are ever going to know, but you were still willing to rebuild. I think that counts for something."

"Okay."

"I get that you don't believe me. But think about it for a moment. This guy," Dove said while tapping the mask, "Couldn't weather the storm. You did. You weathered it and rebuilt."

"Thanks." Rot slid on the mask and fiddled with his helmet straps. Eventually he put the helmet on top of the mask, hiding a majority of its features. "How does it look?"

"Clunky, but a lot less easy to punch you out."

"Good." He sighed. "You know, there would have been a time where I would have tried to kill all of you here."

"Probably. Not that it matters, since you would have never seen Penny or I again."

"Even so, would have still tried."

"Okay." Dove stared out at the midday sun skating across the sky. A short burst reminds them where they are.

"You're not going to ask what changed?"

Dove looked over. "I don't think I need to. Have some confidence in yourself."

"What do you mean, have some confidence? I have plenty of confidence." Balked Rot.

"You had bravado and pride." Smirked Dove. "I think you're now getting the confidence you need."

"What's the difference?"

"It's what you show, verses what you know. And I think you know now."

"Jeez, for being much older than Go, you'd think that you would be having the talk with her, and not me."

"But you're not her." Dove looked back out to slopes beyond. "You're your own person. She and I had a couple of parallels, making it so we didn't really intersect."

"How so?"

"We just made do with what life handed to us, and then made our own goals." Admitted Dove. "We're pretty aimless, usually, but we've picked up large projects out of necessity. Not that we're even the best people for the job."

"But I didn't."

"Don't say it that way." Dove poked Rot in the chest. "You came into this with a plan. You've had a plan. So you feel lost, when your plan is slightly shifted off course. You're a river, and you had dug a channel. Forcing you to change course felt unnatural, but you're still ending up where you had planned to."

"Thanks," sighed Rot. "It's also because she really wasn't that difficult, was she?"

"Oh yeah, she really wasn't difficult to deal with." Dove took a sip from his canteen. "She also makes good liquor."

"Hear, hear."

"Less conflict leads to less chances to grow. Not that it's impossible."

"Thanks man. See you around?"

Dove laugh steamed the air around him. "Heck no! I'm heading down south! If all goes well, you'll never see me again."

"Fair enough." Rot uncapped his canteen. "One last toast before the road?"

"One last toast. To the next one."

"To the next one."

* * *

Penny was waiting at one of the holes blasted into the wall. Her droid was carrying her, and the massive mask Dove decided to keep. "What happened to the mask?"

"Thought it was about time I ditched it." Dove knocked on the grimm mask. "Can always make a new one out of this one."

"And the nice glass?"

"Look, I get that that mask was the superior version of almost any mask I can get nowadays, but it felt right."

"Alright, mister softie."

"Very funny Penny." Dove jumped down the four stories into the untouched snowbank. "You coming down?"

Penny skid down with the mask. "Of course."

"Show off."

"You know you like it."

Dove cracked his back. "Will admit, it is nice not having to carry you all the time."

"Are you trying to say something?"

"I don't know, am I?"


	53. Day 53

"What would happen if two figures were to disappear into the white?"

"Into the white?"

"Yep. Just, poof. Gone. No one finds them ever again."

"Dunno. Do people know that they're supposed to arrive somewhere?"

"They're not going anywhere where someone would know them, I think."

"This is sounding like that old tree in the forest thought thingy."

"Sort of."

"But with that one, I don't think people would hear the tree, or people would notice if the white ate them. But I think someone who traveled the forest would notice if the tree was gone."

"Even if all the trees look the same?"

"But the trees don't look the same. All the trees are different. Inherently."

"You think so? I thought the reason why forests are so easy to get lost in is because all the woods look the same."

"But that's only if you're unfamiliar with them. If you know about each tree, and get to have experiences with them, then the forest doesn't seem so unfamiliar."

"You know, you're not bad new guy."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Still doesn't change the fact that I'm bored as all heck."

"Yeah. Really thought there would be more excitement in this job."

"Can totally see why 435 left now."

"Really?"

"Heh, not really. It's a joke. She and I were stationed here together, back when the camp was gender segregated. She had a kid, and well, probably needed a better place to raise it."

"Yeah, I can see why. The people here aren't the greatest to raise your kids around."

"Doesn't help that her kid was sickly, and the cold here wasn't helping."

"At least the Aurora Borealis is nice."

"It really is."

"431, you plan on retiring some day?"

"Of course. But first, I think someone is trying to make a breakaway. You want to take the shot while I man the spotlight?"

"Sure." A single shot rang out in the night. "Man, sure is boring tonight. Is it always like this?"

"You get used of it."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Kind of sucks, actually."

"Man, I feel like security is boring unless things go poorly."

"That's the way the cookie crumbles."

"I have to make a report now, right?"

"Yep. Ammunition expense form 3. Have fun with that."

"Thanks. See you in a few."

"See ya, 494."


	54. Day 54

Dove had been struggling lately. He had not been moving as fast as he used to and had to stop more frequently. Poor diet combined with whatever injury he suffered was taking his toll on him.

Penny watched as he hobbled over the top of the slope, walking with an awkward gait. "How are you feeling?"

"Diarrhea isn't great, not going to lie." He shifted his pants. His eyes expressed his discomfort. "Started bleeding again."

"You need to stop?"

"No." Dove's eyes were sunken. Tired. Exhausted. "We can keep going."

"We can stop if you need us to."

"I said we can continue going." Snippy. Tired. Burning from both ends. He was not being honest.

"Understood." Penny order the droid to continue forward. "What would you like to talk about today?"

"Not sure. Just want to keep moving."

"How come?"

He swallowed. He knew. "I don't think I'll be able to keep this up much longer."

"How come?"

"As I said, I'm dying. I don't think it's so slowly anymore." Dove held his stomach as he slowed down. "I… I don't know anymore. How long I have."

"What happened?"

"Sleeping Geist. Dropping six stories, even with aura ruptures some important things."

"Is the Geist what killed Russel?"

"Yeah. Since it was made of stone, when it burst, the whole golem dropped on him. Saved me the effort of having to bury him and finding a headstone."

"Morbid, but understandable."

"Don't you know it." He stopped to breath in the chilled air. A pained hiss left his mouth. Unsteady breaths.

"Sorry."

"It's fine. Bout time I told you."

"I would like to ask, however, why do you not have a grudge against the grimm for his death?"

His eyes closed. Acceptance. A tired man knowing that it is no longer a fight worth fighting. "There's no point. The one that did was dead, and the rest of them aren't any better than mosquitoes."

"Would that not still make them pests?"

"Yeah. But it's pretty pointless trying to travel the world to kill all mosquitoes."

"I understand."

He shifted his much lighter pack. "Maybe I will take a break. How about a break."

"Sounds good to me, Dove."

* * *

**PP:** Testing, testing, one, two.

**DV:** Good Day PP. How may I help you today?


	55. Day 55

"You ever keep up with your old buddies?"

435 took a sip of her brew. "What?"

The old sea dog took a seat next to her. "Like, keep track of them."

"Not really. Probably should?"

"Yeah, you probably should. Sometimes, they'll just disappear, and you'll never know. Or know why."

"First-hand experience?"

The man took a sip of his own. "Yep. Had a couple of dogs I used to sail with. Best of friends we were."

"What happened?"

"I got my own boat. Brice got his own. Lost track of Gnat. Winds carried us in different directions, I guess." Glazed eyes watched the horizon. "I'd drop by sometimes, but I could never catch them. The winds always carried them just out of my sails."

"You ever find out what happened?"

"Brice got his boat commandeered, so, you know what that means. Religious cultists do be like that sometimes. And Gant, well, just never found him again. Hope he is doing well."

435 shifted in her seat. "Were you close to them?"

"For a time." Another sip. "Closer to them than to some of my other mates."

"And how are they doing?"

"I know one is doing fine down south." He glanced over to her. "Personal favor, you know?"

"I know. I get it. Just cause I work for them, don't mean I got to be a perfect rule abider either."

"Right." A long sigh. "The last one found work. Think he's near the capital now."

"Really? What's his number? Maybe I met him along the way."

"Never found out his number. Just knew he joined the corps to get away from his family." The man snickered. "Good timing as well. Barely avoided the destruction of the bunker he was from."

A sly grin betrayed her intentions. "And how did you avoid all the cluster?"

"I was out at sea, minding my business. Dingy too small to commandeer, too far out to make it worth their time. Passing like ships in the night."

"But literally."

"Sometimes." Grunted the man. "Other times it was like noon."

"And they didn't shoot at you?"

"I made sure it looked like an abandoned boat when they passed by."

"And they never came aboard?"

"Too many snobby Lieutenants trying to look good. Didn't waste any time and shot warning shots at those who tried." The man snickered. "And shot those who actually jumped."

"Different times."

"Different times."


	56. Day 56

Too many days. Too many white slopes.

"Yo, dude, I said papers." Prodded a guard.

"Oh yeah." Dove patted himself down. "Ah-"

"Don't have them?" The guard sounded unimpressed. "You can't enter the settlement if you don't have papers."

"I know, I just. I came from the Wall." Dove glanced at the silent droid. Thank golly he and her talked about how to keep their cover in the harbor town. No need to have them both scrapped if they accidentally found out about her.

"How many days ago were you at the wall?"

"Three days ago."

"Dude. The wall is like only a day away if you walk the entire way. What took you so long?"

"Poor health."

The guard prodded his armor with his rifle. "You ever think about ditching this…"

"Armor."

"Armor, yes." The guard prodded it again. "Well, sorry man, I can't let you into the settlement without the proper papers."

The sentry post door creaked open, and a visor-covered face leaned out of it. "What's the hold up, rookie?"

"Ma'am, this man doesn't have the proper identification."

She sighed. "I'll take care of it. Follow me."

Dove plodded in the snow after her, a good hundred feet away from the other guard. "Sorry about this ma'am."

"Yeah, yeah, sure. I don't care. Supposedly, the brass wants us to kill those who haven't sworn into a settlement or into service, but I get the feeling that you're not going to use all of that." She pointed at the grimm mask Penny was dragging around. The massive bone mask.

"No, I'm not. I just want to make a new mask for myself, and was planning on giving the rest to the smith in return for his labor."

"Right, right. He won't be able to use it all, trust me." She nudged him. "So, what happened to the old mask?"

"Gave it to someone who needed it more than I did."

"Ooo, aren't you a softie~"

Dove grumbled. "Yeah sure. We have an agreement, or not?"

"Sure we do, sugar. I'm 435." She stuck out her hand.

Dove grabbed her hand and shook it. "Bird."

"No you ain't." She snickered. "What's your real name?"

Dove felt his hand slowly being crushed. "Dove."

"See, being honest wasn't that hard." She released his hand. "Well, a deal's a deal. Make sure to ask for me once you're in the town."

"Anything else? Not going to ask why I'm here?"

Her laugh chimed like a bell. "Sure. Why are you here?"

"I came here to work for one F. Monger."

She burst out laughing uncontrollably. "That's the moniker he came up for himself? Pfft, jeez." She wiped a tear away from under her visor. "Crikey. You crazy kids. Really? That's what he chose?"

Dove sighed. "Yep."

"Alright. Get going then." She smacked his backside. "Alright, rookie, he got cleared!"

"Really?"

"Yep! Let him on through!"

The rookie raised the arm blocking the entry. "Enjoy your time in the Sock settlement."

"Sock?" Asked Dove with a confused expression.

"South Dock. Shortened to Sock."

"Fair enough. Have a good day."

"We cleared the guards?" Asked the droid, quietly.

"For now. But not for long. Got to keep a low profile if we want to make it to Vale."


	57. Day 57

Dove was leaning back on a chair facing the ocean, talking to a grimy old man. Penny gazed out across the ocean. She, admittedly, had seen the ocean before. But, for some reason, this was different. She always was on a mission, doing a job, focused on something else, you name it, and never just let the ocean sink in. It was times like this that she wishes that she breathed. She wanted to smell the salt. Academically, she knew what salt did to metals, and by extension, her. It did not change the fact that there was apparently a nostalgic feeling to smells. Salt. Dust. Ash. All could bring back bad memories, as well as good ones. She never had a sense of smell. Then again, there was never a point. No point in giving an artificial human a sense of smell or taste. Too hard to code. Never had been done before either, so no point on trying for her or any of her predecessors. She did have to admit the sight was nice. The calm waves lapping at the sandy beaches. While statistically the most common color of beach, the sandy brown was a long-needed palette change. Too much white. Too much snow. While only just above freezing, it was just warm enough so most of the ice had already cleared. Only a few weeks to spring. It really had been a bit of time the two had spent together. Much of it in silence. There was not much to talk about, if she had to be honest. A lot of snow. There were only so many words for snow.

"What are we watching?"

"Hush." Penny had to work a few kinks out of her pet project, but it really was not a problem. It had taken a lot of time, and a lot of observation. Modifying the code to work on a different operating system had taken time, but it was easier restarting and making modifications, than transferring code over, and having it bug irreparably. He still was not ready. She would not say she was aiming for perfection either, so it was a bit difficult to tell where the end point was. Perfection is, was, easy to measure. Too many variables. She knew firsthand.

* * *

"So, Sock?"

The bourbon colored teeth smiled back. "Yep. They called it Sock. South Dock."

"That's a stupid name." Dove took a sip of his own bourbon. Monger brought out a good bottle.

"I know, but I don't make the names."

"So, what was the name of the port I came into then? Eock?"

The man scratched his head through his ash colored beanie. "Svay, actually."

Dove placed down his drink. "What. Come again?"

"Svay. South Bay."

"But why not just South Bay then?"

"They like their four-character names. Almost like their database is only set up for four-characters," sneered the older man.

"I mean, they did technically bomb them back to the proverbial stone age with how badly they bombed them when they crated a major section of the capital." Dove took a calm sip of his brown liquor. "Not surprised if their software took a hit as well."

"Or it could be sheer incompetence or laziness," coughed the man. "Never underestimate mankind."

"Or that." The two listened to the waves gently lick the sand behind them, soaking in the last rays of the day and the gentle caustic smell of the sea. "So, how have you been, Monger?"

"Been alright, actually, Mr. Bronzewing. Long days at sea, and a season on shore when the ice gets too thick. Bout to head out soon enough anyways."

"Mind if I and another pair of hands help you out on the way back?"

"Of course not, sonny." His glassy eyes gazed over Dove. "Find what you need?"

"No." Dove looked back at Penny. "But I don't think I really needed it."

"Found what you really needed?"

"I wouldn't say need." He was tired. The calm warmth of the sun did wonders, even if it was only barely warmer than days ago. "More like something I should have sought out long ago."

"Even if it technically not necessary."

"Essentially." Both took a few more sips, staring at the tide come in. "Find someone to talk to yourself?"

"Now, sonny, why do you think I stuck around in this Sock for so long?"

"Cause it's not Svay?"

Monger cackled into the sea breeze. "It is a blight on the continent, that's for sure. But, no, that's not why I stayed."

"Then how come?"

"Because this place has a future. No matter how terrible things seem now, there's something growing here. Life. Families. Community. If we need to grow as a lichen on the bottom of a rock, then so be it."

"Cheers to that."

"Cheers."

With that, the two finished their glasses, and enjoyed the silence as the sun left the horizon.


	58. Day 58

"So, dropped off the mask already?" Prodded 435.

Dove was taken aback. He was just walking down the cobblestone path, and then a visor popped out of the bushes. "Yes?"

"Is that a yes or not?" Smirked the woman.

"Yes. It's a yes."

"Good." She stepped out of the bush with an explosion of branches. "I'm looking forward to my cut."

"I actually told him that you'd be coming to him to divide it with him."

Dove could see her eye twitch through the visor. "What?"

"Was I not supposed to do that?"

She raised a fist and steadied herself. "I didn't say not to, so I can only blame myself."

"Fair enough." Dove made to head elsewhere, not entirely sure where, but somewhere where she wasn't. Until her hand gripped his shoulder. "What?"

"Where are you headed?"

Dove knew he had to do one thing: don't say the docks, don't say the docks. "The docks." Damn it.

"Excellent, I'm headed there soon as well!"

Why. "Oh. Okay." Grimaced Dove. "Sounds good." He wanted nothing more than for her to go away. Not sure why he didn't like her, but it might have had something to do with the fact that she could essentially get him killed whenever she wanted to by reporting him, or simply arresting him for his lack of papers. Right, it was probably that.

"So, most people go insane by going alone. What's been happening to make you not scramble the eggs?" Dove didn't like how she smiled at him.

"Been talking."

"You know that talking to yourself is a great way to slowly get disconnected from others, right?" She snickered. "Only natural instinct. The pack isolates members which are sick or a danger to the rest."

"Good to know." Dove increased his pace.

"So, tell me, how far north did you get, because you're obviously not from around here."

"Eyeshot of the city. What remains of the capital." Answered Dove in a robotic fashion. "And how could you tell?"

"You're too competent. D'aw, don't look at me that way."

"Too competent?"

"You're a threat." She leaned her arm around Dove. "You hide and let everyone do as they want, because you know that they don't know what you know. And you know," 435 said, while booping his nose, "That you know too much."

"That's a funny theory." Dove brushed her arm off of him.

"I know I'm probably not entirely right, but then again, how can I be, when you don't open up to me."

"I'm just trying to get back to Vale, alright? I don't want to deal with some random guard messing with my head. I've gotten to far to get snagged up in your games now."

"True." 435 took out a pair of cigarettes and a lighter. "Want one?"

"No thanks. I don't smoke."

"Your loss." She shrugged and lit both. With a deep breath, she exhaled a cloud of smoke. "You know, it would be a shame if our Fish Monger lost some labor because his labor was misplaced."

Dove stopped and looked back at her. "Is that meant to be a threat?"

"Are you trying to be cool? Aloof?" She leaned on him again, spewing smoke into his eyes. "Who knows? Entertain me."

Dove sneered through the smoke. "So, where would you like me to start?"

"Humor me. I'd love a story to tell."

"It all started in a small town. So, small it didn't have a name. There, there was born a boy. We'll call him Jay. Jay grew up in a loving family, but he never was good enough. Not for his parents, but for the world at large. No matter what they said, he would never match their expectations. So, he ran. Ran to a place where he could be a hero. Found a mentor. Found himself in the classic bully relationship. When things went belly-up, he grew into a man, or at least filled the position of one."

"Sounds like a good origin story. Very nice."

"It's not mine."

"Oh, you naughty boy." She jabbed him with an elbow. "Good story, nonetheless. So, where did he end up?"

"Don't know. Probably is either dead or miserable in a hole in the ground somewhere."

"Why not give him a happy ending. One with a daughter and a chance for the future?" 435 gestured. "What do you think?"

"Feel like that's too canned." Growled Dove.

"Hmm, I can see where you're coming with that." She rubbed her chin. "What if she messed with time and went back to meet her father!"

"Again, that's super canned. Done before. Not new."

"No one will know, and most authors are dead now. No point not trying to!"

"I don't think I have enough time to write that."

"Oh, come on, enjoy the idea. Can opener!"

"Really?"

"Why not? It's not that bad."

"Yeah, there's no way someone doesn't go through this world without growing up a little warped." Dove looked down at her. "How long are you going to go at this?"

"As long as I want to. Firing pin!" She snickered to herself. "Besides, it just seems like you just have a lack of faith in all of us. The kids will be alright."

"If you really want a title, the I'd go with 'A Story by Any Other Name.'"

"Poo! Lame!"

"You do better!"

"Tin Town."

"Tin Town? How come?"

"Basically, it's a bunch of canned concepts, but then you get to warp and melt them into something new. It's not just a bunch of cans anymore, and becomes a new thing, a Tin Town." Gestured 435.

Dove paused for a moment. "Methinks that you're already using too many braincells on this."

"What I do with my braincells are none of your concern."

"Fair enough."

"So, tell me another story. You're not bad at it!"

"I'd rather not."

"We have at least another ten minutes before the docks. We have the time."

"Fine. Chose a number, one or two?"


	59. Day 59

"So, what happened next?" Smirked Monger as he stirred a pot on his stove. The three of them were in Monger's humble two room adobe. Penny watched from the corner, while Dove remained seated at the table.

"She essentially bugged me until she got to her post at the light house. Watched the ocean, I guess. Are the guards on a shift system?"

"Yeah, actually." The ladle clacked against the pot. "Think there's about seven of them. Cycle between the lighthouse, the sentry post, the town itself, and on break. Though one could say patrolling the town itself is like being on break." Monger lifts the ladle from the stew, blows on it, and takes a sip. "Delicious."

"Are you putting that back in?"

"Are you going to stop me?" Smugly grinned Monger.

The door opened. "Is it ready?"

Dove looked at 435. "What are you doing here?"

Monger approached the door and embraced the guard in a hug. "Welcome. Of course, it is. You bring the little rascal as well?"

She closed the door behind her, removed her visor, and placed it on the coat hanger, revealing her short brown hair and brown eyes. "Naw, he's staying at a friend's house. Just couldn't say no to the little tyke."

"Now, now, if you don't set boundaries, he's going to run all over you when he gets older."

"Maybe." 435 took her seat to Dove's left. "But let me spoil the boy a little longer, alright?"

"Fair enough." Monger brought the pot over, and finally noticed Dove's dumbfounded face. "What's the matter Dove?"

"She's the guard I had to buy off to get in here! What is she doing here!"

435 sighed and leaned back in her chair. "What happened to corruption etiquette Phil?"

"Don't know." Monger came behind Dove and smacked him on the back of his head. "Why don't you know to follow good corruption etiquette?"

"What the heck are you two talking about!"

Monger sighed and held his wrinkled face in his hand. "I'm truly sorry, ma'am. I can't believe I forgot to teach him proper corruption etiquette before he traveled inland. Shame on me."

"Surprised he didn't learn it himself." Admonished 435, as she placed her napkin into her collar. "It's basic etiquette after all."

"Fine. I'll bite." Groaned Dove. "What is this corruption etiquette?"

Monger took his own seat and looked at Dove with a look of pure disappointment. "It's simple. You never tell anyone that you engaged in it. That's it."

"Just don't talk about it?"

"Just don't talk about it."

"See, it's not that hard." Chimed in 435 as accepted a full bowl from Monger. Soon, all three had bowls full of red oily soup. "You just don't talk about it. It's like it never happened."

"Wait, Monger, you're not surprised that she was. Did you set me up?" Scowled Dove.

"Now, now, Dove. That would be in violation of basic corruption etiquette." Sipped Monger. "Don't you think, miss?"

"Oh, I most certainly agree, Phil."

"Oh, you bastards." Dove grabbed a spoonful of soup. "Actually, this is really good. What's it made of?"

"Crab and tomato base." The table sat in a chorus of slurps. "And a few clams."

"Very nice Phil. Props to the chef." Cheered 435.

"Why do you call him Phil?" Asked Dove.

"Because that's my name." Deadpanned Monger. "Phillip Manger. I use Fish Monger as a pseudonym since its similar to my own name."

"Really?"

"Yeah, that's actually his name." Affirmed 435. "But most of us call him Monger, or Dock worker, or Geezer. It's essentially what he does, anyways."

"Really? Isn't that a bit rude?"

"Calm down there, Dove, it's my choice to be an old geezer, and it's about time I got to be one." Laughed Monger. "Ain't no right of yours to tell me to be young again."

"Yeah, Dove, respect his right to be crotchety and old!" The two began laughing, and dripping soup down their chins. "Sorry, sorry, we're just having too much fun messing with you, kid."

"How much of that was you messing with me?"

"I don't know. How much do you think, Phil?"

"No clue, why don't you come back when my dementia wears off?"

"Fair enough." She took another sip. "It gone yet?"

"No, ma'am. Try again in ten seconds. Maybe then."

Dove rested his spoon on his cup, and his face in his hands. "How long are you guys going to keep this up?"

"Probably until we get tired of it." Admitted 435.

"Which is unlikely," added Monger. "So, buckle in, and enjoy your soup. You'll need it if you want to grow big and strong."

Penny really should not have been enjoying watching Dove being at the mercy of the two, but it was a nice change of pace. It was nice not worrying about having to do things or having to worry for their lives. She could get used to this.


	60. Day 60

"Hey, I'm back," greeted 435 as she let herself back in. "So, what's up old man?"

"Not much." Smiled Monger, before a thunderous roar emitted from around the corner. "Just the kid's body is remembering what real food is like."

"Heh, nice." The two slapped hands, creating a truly awesome high-five. "How long do you think he'll be in there?"

An anguished scream followed by a slapping of cheeks answered them. Monger looked back, and yelled out, "If you make a mess, you're cleaning it up!" He grumbled as he shifted in his seat. "Probably a while. How come? Anything happen today?"

"Watched as we popped a guy trying to swim in through the harbor. Vest detonated, but thankfully, no damage occurred."

"That's impressive. Not often you get someone willing to swim that far."

"I know right? Like, that's at least a few miles, especially with the vest he was wearing." She pulled up a chair for herself and leaned in it. "Such a shame. I just don't get why they don't get with the program."

"I still don't know why you call it that." Monger poured her a cup of mystery liquid. Still didn't know which bottle he pulled out this morning. "Want a cup?"

"Always." She took a sip. "What is this?"

"Dunno."

"Anyways, I call it a program, since, you know, its like a television program. We all have to play our parts."

"But we don't."

"We say we do. It really doesn't matter if we do, as long as we look like we are," shrugged 435. "It really doesn't matter."

"And they just won't sit down, and pretend like the rest of us, is what you're saying."

"Pretty much." Drawled 435. "Don't they know it's a lot easier to work from the inside than from the outside?"

"I mean, it doesn't look like you're getting results."

"But are we dying?"

Monger pondered as he sipped his mystery liquid. "No, we're not."

"Exactly. Sure, it's generational change, and its slow as all heck, but we ain't dying, and our ideas ain't dying with us."

"You know, they're going to make every dead soldier of theirs a martyr, right?" Groaned Monger. "I don't think they're ever going to stop."

"And we can't accelerate, as long as they keep throwing their useless bodies at the wall."

"The Wall?"

"I'm talking about a metaphorical one here, Manger," Smacked 435. "Jeez."

"Right, right. Sorry. Just my mind's escaping me at my age."

"Damn Geezers." The two finished their cups, and as Monger filled up the cups, 435 continued. "It's really annoying. Just glad we actually have a system here."

"I know right? Vale is such a piss-hole. It's garbage."

"We got luck with Watts. To Watts being an ego maniac." The two toasted and clinked tin cups. "Such an insecure bastard that he wanted Atlas, and for everyone to follow him as king."

"Chairman." Corrected Monger.

"Chairman, king, the senate, whatever. It's all the same."

"Yeah, just about."

The two enjoyed the silence, and the screams of Dove in the bathroom. "So, how are the other kingdoms?" Asked 435. "Sorry, ex-kingdoms."

"Naw, it's easier to refer to them as such. It's how the admins planned on splitting it, right?"

"The big four? Yeah. One for each." She took another sip. "Or at least it would have been if one didn't get sploded with Atlas."

"Yep. Speaking of him, Vacuo is pretty much the same."

"Bar the two cities."

"Bar the two cities. Those are gone." Monger downed his cup for the fallen cities. "Yep. Never stood a chance."

"Never stood a damn chance." 435 downed her own and held it out for him to refill it. "They were smart though. Tyrian supposedly never had a plan, so them just evacuating the city and being nomadic kind of worked out for them."

"It really did." Dove's screams echoed through the small shack. "Only the dumb pawns of that one guy who's actively working against Salem stayed."

"Ozpawn? Ozprick? What was it again?"

"Don't know, don't care."

"Fair enough." The two drank sipped. "What about Mistral?"

"They kind of messed up taking over, destroyed too many small settlements, not enough big dissident centers," mused Monger. "Really screwed Hazel over."

"They really did. I get he's technically a general of the person who's oppressing us and all, but damn, he really got shafted."

"Yep."

"And Vale's a pile of garbage?"

"Yep. Vale is a grimm infested wasteland. It's a shame."

"The loss of Vale? Yeah."

"I meant the complete grimmification of Cinder. Heard she was a looker before she completely lost her mind."

"Oh that." Nodded 435. "I heard something like that. Doesn't really concern me though."

"I guess it really doesn't."

"Yep."

Monger filled their cups again. "So, you think those guys are saying we're not doing enough to resist the occupation?"

"Of course they are. If you're not willing to die for their O man, then you're a coward," grimaced 435. "Well, sorry I'm not willing to die for your O man."

"I know right? Besides, we actually made things livable here."

"We really did. Thank the brothers that Atlas was taken over by an egomaniac."

Monger clinked his cup, then paused. "Wait are you talking about the city or the state?"

"Is there a difference?"

His eyes glazed over, before he shrugged and slugged down the drink. "Doesn't matter."

"Yep. It doesn't really matter." She then looked over at Penny, still standing in the corner. "So, you figure out what's with the mech yet?"

"Not really." Scratched Monger at his beard. "I mean, I thought it was some sort of sexual relief bot, but it sort of lacks the ports for that."

"I guess it does. What do you think is on the computer?"

"Dunno. Porn?"

"Really? Porn?"

"Hey, don't blame me," exclaimed Monger as he raised his hands in defense. "I knew a guy who had like terabytes of porn on his hard drive buried his yard. Like all sort of weird stuff was on there. He was going to dig it up after a few years and start printing out the pictures and get rich from it."

435 was about to raise her finger to correct him, then realized that he wasn't entirely wrong. "You think that if we get him a printer and a computer, we could split the profits?"

"Dunno. Maybe?" Mumbled Monger. "But that requires him to find where he buried it again."

"Huh. That puts a real kink into the situation."

"It does." Monger ignored Dove's cries for mercy. "So, what do you think is on the computer."

"Dunno. Does he do anything weird with it?"

"Sometimes I hear him talk to it."

"Think we have a Wilson case on our hands?"

"Maybe?"

"If so, man, that's got to suck."

"Yeah," sighed Monger. "Should we take it away from him? For his own good?"

"Maybe?"

A door thudded shut behind them, as Dove hobbled out. "Hey, welcome back 435. What are you two talking about?"

"Nothing important. Your mask isn't ready yet?"

"Nope."

"Pity."


	61. Day 61

If he could, he would shed a tear. It was beautiful. Flawless. His hands graced its perfect surface. Perfection itself. Beauty. Nothing more beautiful than this ivory surface. Dove cradled the mask in his hands.

"I hate you. Not only professionally, but on a personal level."

Dove looked up at the disgruntled smith. "Don't care. This is beautiful. It even has tinted glass. Thank you."

"Shove it," grimaced the smith. "Do you know how much of a pain it is, to work with bone?"

"No?" Dove hesitantly hissed.

"It's miserable. While I'm glad you gave me the sheer amount of it, and potentially made me the wealthiest man in Sock, I want to kill you. Every fiber of my being, wants to stick your head onto a grinder, and grind away until I make a mask out of your crown."

Dove scanned him with his semblance. He wasn't lying. "Oh. Okay." What else was he to say?

"Bone doesn't bend like metal. It's very hard to work with." Dove didn't like how the smith was approaching him. "It's not very friendly."

"I get the feeling that you're not feeling very friendly right now either, so I'm just going to get out of your hair now." Smile Dove with the toothiest grin he could manage, without splitting his skull in two. "Thank you very much for the mask, and I appreciate your efforts. If there's anything I can do for you, let me know."

"Take a long walk off a short pier."

"You know, should have seen that coming." Dove took a step back. "Well, I'll keep it in mind. See you."

"Never. Never come back here again. I will make sure my children learn what you look like so they can make sure to finish what I am legally cannot."

"Right. Can do." Dove coughed. "Probably not going to be a problem anyways, but I'll keep it in mind." Dove stepped out and strapped the bone mask to his armor. No point wearing it within the bounds of the settlement. That, and there may have been rules against wearing items which obscured your identity. Which he may or may not have remembered as having shoot on sight as standard protocol. Yeah, best not to challenge it.

435 strolled up to him. "Nice mask. So, that mean he's ready?"

"I really wouldn't recommend-"

"Thanks kid." Nodded 435 as she smacked Dove on the shoulder as she passed and entered the smithy.

"Your funeral." Dove stated. It fell on absent ears.

And then he felt an immense amount of negativity and wrath behind him. He turned and felt the the tremors. The anger. The wrath. It slammed into him with force and power, the shockwave landing him on his butt. And then he heard it. Two very simple words.

"YOU WHAT-"

Dove blacked out.


	62. Day 62

Dove woke to some gentle slapping. His head ached, throbbed even.

"You up?"

Dove opened his eyes to see the geezer leaning over him. "What happened?"

"The grimm were fended off. Though, apparently, someone got so mad, it caused a lot of the grimm nearby to just lose their gourds."

"Yeah, sounds about right." Sighed Dove as he leaned back. "So, what happened?"

"We fought them off, and thankfully, no casualties." Monger looked up and away, eyes glazing as he looked out of the window. "Except for the sheer amount of rockets used to bring down the Leviathan. Good men." His arm came up in a trembling salute.

"Okay… sure, all of this makes sense." Lied Dove. "Right…"

Monger's eyes snapped back. "You must be tired. You went on a sort of rampage yesterday."

"I what?"

"You sort of just went ballistic on the Manticore that flew into the city. Started pounding on its face with your fists until you punched through its eyes with your fists before you dropped like a rock into the ocean." Explained Monger. "No idea what made you like that. Why didn't you just use your sword?"

"I have a theory, but I'm not exactly comfortable with it."

"And that is?"

"Have I explained what my semblance is?"

Monger tilted his head as he thought for a moment. "Yeah. Grimm vision, right?"

"Yeah. Though, it may have messed with my mind for a moment."

"Since you can literally feel anger, with it up," nodded Monger. "You've explained it to me."

"Probably scrambled my eggs for a bit. I've never felt someone that angry before."

"Me neither." Admitted Monger. "Last time I've seen someone that mad was before this whole mess."

"I know, right?" Agreed Dove, before he adopted a solemn look on his face. "Man, speaking of which, I miss my mom."

Monger's fat fingers patted Dove's shoulders. "I don't think you ever stop missing your mom." Then he paused to think. "Unless she's terribly abusive or you never met her."

"Right." Dove shifted uncomfortably. "So, when are we heading out?"

"Honestly, not sure." Monger stated as he led Dove to the window. "The Leviathan hasn't finished disintegrating."

And there it was. The giant mass of black flesh was bloated and floating, blocking access to the ocean for a majority of the boats. "That's a big boy."

"It really is a big boy. Real fat one. Hide thick as blubber. How did you think he got so big?"

"Eating refugees escaping from or to Atlas?" Shrugged Dove.

"Sounds plausible enough." Monger turned and started prepping for his next meal. "Get ready for tomorrow. It might be small enough to get past then."

"Right, right." Nodded Dove. "Want any help with that?"

Monger slid a cutting board and a handful of misshapen tomatoes to a clear section of counter. "Of course. Glad to be cooking with someone."


	63. Day 63

"Remember what we went over?"

"Yeah. You sure he won't take it as if we killed his dog? Go nuts and all that fun stuff?"

"I believe that would mean that you need to be subtle, old man. There's no reason why he should have to suspect a thing."

"Right, right. I'm just surprised that you feel so strongly about this. You only just met him."

"He reminds me a bit of me. It would be wrong for us to let him do this to himself. As you said, we're helping him."

"Right. I just don't want him to go berserk and kill me, you know. Not after what we saw a couple days ago."

"And I understand. But when are you going to get a better chance?"

"I won't."

"And you care for the kid, right?"

"I do. He's just so young. Too many children were forced to grow up too soon. I guess…"

"You guess that this was the way that he dealt with it."

"Yeah. It's a shame really. Seems a bit weird, as something to attach to."

"It does. But then again, it doesn't really enter uncanny valley, so that may be why."

"Makes sense."

"Hey, geezer, chin up. It's okay."

"I know. It just hurts seeing a friend, and a kid at that, in this sort of situation."

"He is in his late twenties."

"And I'm nearing sixty. I know, I don't really look it."

"You really don't. What do you use?"

"A satisfying career."

* * *

Monger stepped on the boat and watched as Dove finished tying the ropes into place. He glanced back to Monger, and called out, "About time you showed back up. Everything ready."

Monger smiled softly to Dove. "Yeah. Got everything ready." Monger sat near the tiller. "You got everything tied down?"

"Yep."

"Main and jib sheets?"

"Yes."

"Clockwise around the winch?"

"Of course! I'm ready to go." Smiled Dove. "Don't doubt me so much. This isn't the first time I've been on a boat and isn't the first time I've been on yours."

"I know, I know." Gently smiled Monger. "You just have to be sure on this sort of thing, you know?"

"Yeah. Got to make sure it's done properly and all. I get it." Dove said, while idly tugging on a sheet. "One of the things I still remember."

"Thattaboy." Smacked Monger. "Now, let's head on out. Dead grimm dissolved enough, and there's nothing but blue seas from here and Vale."

"To Vale."


	64. Day 64

"You're not real. It doesn't matter what he says. You're not real. If anything, you're hurting him. He won't heal as long as he has you here with him. While I would ask you to think about it, I know you can't. Because you're not alive. You can't think. You're just a fictional creature he's made for himself. I wonder how that would feel. Then again, you can't feel, can you? Just metal. Cold. Unfeeling. Staring out, knowing nothing. Doing nothing but weigh him down."

"Hey, Monger, you down there?" Called Dove from the deck.

"Yes Dove," Called back Phillip Manger. "Just checking out the handiwork of your little friend."

"It's just a regular security droid. Shouldn't be anything special about it."

"That's why it's so interesting." Manger walked above deck and watched as Dove maintained his grip on the winch. "It has been a while since I've seen that kind of model after all."

Dove cradled his chin in a thoughtful look. His mask remained tied to his breast "I guess it has. Sometimes I forget that fact."

"Not all of us are leading the lives of excitement you kids are."

"I guess not." A look of realization passed through his eyes. "Sorry. Didn't mean to-"

"Don't worry about it. I'm getting old anyways." Manger grabbed the edge of a bench and slowly lowered himself into it. "It's us old folk's job to look after you young'uns anyways."

"C'mon, I'm not that young."

"Kid, you'll always be young to me." Manger popped open his flask and looked down into it. He was going to need courage soon, not for what he was going to do, but for the kid. The artic sea wind nipped at their faces, brightening their noses and cheeks into a rosy red. It was times like these that he was glad he had gloves. "How are your ears faring?"

The kid reached for his ears. "My ears?"

"Yeah." Manger let his breath hang in the air. "Your ears will get chilled real easy in these winds. They don't feel like much, but they really eat away at you."

"Oh." Exhaled Dove. "Don't worry about that. My helmet actually has some padding in it."

"Really now?"

"Of course it does. If it didn't, I'd be clattering my head in a tin can whenever I fall down or get hit."

"Fair enough." Manger lifted the flask to his lips. It was a cold comfort. It left him feeling cold inside.

The two watched the waves as they drifted along the waves. A black fin crested from the water, the weathered spines and skin almost seeming of another age. A time weathered sail. Something he could respect as a sailor. It would be soon. Soon he could put the plan into place. And seeing that sail told him that soon, very soon, they would be upon them.

"So, what are you thinking about, old man?"

Manger snapped from his daze. "Oh me? Just some scheming from an old man. Thinking of better times, being old and all that."

"Thinking about how the kids don't appreciate what they have?"

"Now, now Dove, I know a couple of kids who appreciate what they were given." Manger stared off again. "Just thinking how to make it easier on them."

Dove lurched off of his seat and hugged Manger. "Thanks, old man."

"Yeah. No problem." The guilt hurt Manger deep inside. He wasn't lying to him, per say. He just wasn't telling him everything. And what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Too much. It'll be taken care of before he ever really figures it out.

* * *

"Mom, why do fishermen use such big hooks?"

435 looked down on her little tyke. Of course, after a long day, this is the first question he asks. Well, can't say it doesn't bring a smile to her face. "Well, it's to make sure the fish doesn't get away."

"Doesn't it hurt?"

She thought for a moment. "I don't think fishes think the same way you or I do. I don't think the feel it as much as pain, and more of 'there's something in my mouth!'" Her boy giggled. He enjoyed it when she did her voices. "Of course, this is just what I've heard from others."

"Like from Mr. Manger?"

"Maybe." She smugly grinned. "Just maybe."

"C'mon mom!" Tiny hands gripped the numerous pockets on her pants. "Tell me!"

"I heard it somewhere. Don't exactly remember where though."

Her boy pouted. "What about the grimm then?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why do grimm sometimes go after fishing boats if the fish aren't in pain?"

She smiled. "See, honey, that's what happens when a boat goes after something bigger. Like seals. Or a whale. They're smarter. They do hurt when fishermen hunt them."

"Then why do we hunt them?"

"Sometimes, there aren't enough fish in the sea."


	65. Day 65

"Think today might be the day. Everything is lining up just perfectly. Now, you may be thinking, why am I talking to myself? Well, it's quite simple. It helps me maintain concentration. I will be needing a steady hand today. Just enough to cause pain, but not enough to kill. The most suffering to be made in a single fell swoop. Don't look at me that way. You're not alive. And remember, this never happened." His gloved hand grips a barbed spear. "No one will remember you."

Penny watched as Manger, with his yellowed teeth and sickly yellow skin stalked off holding a strange sort of rifle. Less of a rifle, and more of a crossbow. She was told, no, asked to remain still. To not give away the fact that she was sentient. She was sentient. She could now say that with confidence. Now that she had true, human life, she feared death. She had not feared before, at least, not to this level. She had been concerned, annoyed, frustrated, disheartened, but never this scared. She was a box full of sensitive wires. On a small collection of wood. Floating on the largest body of water on Remnant. She enjoyed the sight of the ocean. She did not enjoy the ocean itself. She felt as her fans kicked into overdrive, sighing out hot, exasperated air.

"Am I hurting him?"

"I do not know."

Even her project gave her no comfort. It still did not understand. She could provide it with a majority of the components it needed, but she still needed to work out kinks in its programming. While there was the ability to replicate her code, the difference of language and her intent made that strategy moot. It would not do if it was a second her. "Process: Think."

"Initiating Process: Think." Droned a voice. Penny waited, the sway of the boat providing no comfort. Not that it should provide her comfort. There were very few things that provided her comfort anymore. "Process Finished. Think Result: Yes."

"D.V. Send Evidence." Penny watched as she received the facts that her project had been collecting. Watch was an awkward word to use to explain how she received it, as there were no physical copies, just a seamless transmission of documents. D.V. was very honest with her. He had yet to learn how to lie. Its current state was unfortunate, but it would develop in time.

The report was simple. It had no issues with morality, or emotions. D.V. was not smart enough yet. It simply recorded her slowly sapping away at his aura. A leech. A defunct program, taking from others, akin to a background program eating up limited random-access memory. Every singly day she was with him, another hole of hers was temporarily filled with his being. Did it hurt? Did it hurt as his soul itself was being peeled, like a potato for a creature that cannot eat? Swollen like a tick but leaking like a sponge. It was only a matter of time before she could attempt the transfer, but was it right to do so? Transfer something that was not hers? Was her peeling of his soul killing him faster than he would of? She, no, they knew that he was dying. He claimed internal injuries. Was her unintentional sapping killing him, rupturing important bonds maintained by sheer force of will? Or was he simply dying, making her project a necessity. It kept her up at night. She did not need sleep. So, she did not.

A loud, guttural roar emitted from outside. A grimm. Far larger than the vessel, if the turmoil of the waves were anything to go off of. D.V. shouldered his rifle. It was times like these that she appreciated automatic procedures. She could only watch from his collar, as it stared down the black mass blotting out the sun. The barrel rose to the challenge.

* * *

Manger watched as Dove's phony pal staggered from below deck and raised its rifle. It might have been more intelligent than either was letting on, but one still shouldn't become friends with the microwave because its beeps comfort you. While he had planned on using the speargun on a seal or whale, the fog of war is referred as such for a reason. Thankfully, the emergence of the big boy knocked him off the boat. Dove's eyes were on the beast, as were the machine's. His stock rose to the challenge.

* * *

Dove watched as a harpoon flew from the corner of his eye. It had come past Penny's droid and stuck lightly into the hide of this beast. Whatever this was, it had been attracted by someone's emotions. He bit his tongue as he cursed. He should have kept up his semblance. One incident, and he fled from his own semblance like a coward. He should've always kept it up. Better to know, and to not. Penny's bullets harmlessly skipped off of the thick hide of the beast. Dove watched as the spear dangled, hanging into the flesh of the beast. For once, Dove used his brain. He turned back to see the old man in the water loading another spear.

"Old man!" Screamed Dove. "You got another one of those spears?"

Monger looked up at him, confused. "What?"

"I got an idea!" The grimm appeared to be charging an energy-based attack in its mouth. Dove frankly had no idea what it was made of, could be hate if anything. "Do you have another spear!"

While treading water, Monger tossed a spear onto the deck of the boat, before he resubmerged himself and fired at the grimm from beneath the boat. Dove took the spear in hand, and leaped, impaling the spear into the flesh of the grimm. He gripped the other spear dangling from the hide, and began climbing his way up the monumental creature, one stab at a time. The boat was barely saved from obliteration when a single bullet clipped one of the numerous eyes of the creature, causing the ball of hatred to only clip through the sail, shredding it. It hissed and began charging again. It cared not for the swimming Monger, or for the armored ant climbing up its body. It only aimed at the boat. As Dove caught his breath before he had to surmount the grimm's neck, he had to wonder why the creature didn't simply crush the boat with it's superior size. As he rested, Dove looked down, and saw the very obvious reason why: the boat was over a reef. While it wasn't a threat to the grimm, there wasn't a reason why it should potentially cripple a fin trying to get a small boat. Maybe they were smarter than he expected.

* * *

Manger watched as Dove shoved a spear through the underside of the grimm's chin. The spear pierced into the mouth, disappearing entirely. Piercing through the projectile it was charging. With a deafening blast, the grimm's head exploded, and Dove slapped into the water with a splat. Manger watched Dove's aura flicker for the shortest of moments, then burst upon impact with the water. The grimm fell backwards, forcing a wave to crash into the boat. Manger finally reached his baby and rested his rifle on the deck of the beaut. But something was off. Dove failed to resurface. Blood. Only blood did. Manger dived for the kid. Nothing else mattered at the moment. The droid could wait. Even if the first harpoon skipped off of the droid. Even if the droid and Dove shimmered the same.


	66. Day 66

"Explain yourself."

Penny looked up at the cold, weary eyes of Manger. Lips curled up in a tired snarl. Dove lay unconscious beneath the deck, bound and treated, but with the materials they had, he still had yet to wake.

"I know you can hear me. What are you."

Her pet project had been relegated to managing the replacement sail. It was just her, the server box, facing up against the grizzled, gaunt figure of Manger. "My name is Penny."

"Not what I asked," spat Manger. "What are you, and why does that thing have his aura?"

"I am an artificial intelligence. And everything you said was right."

"Figures." He sighed as he looked at the broken body of Dove. She understood why. His mouth and nose were leaking blood. Based on just touch, she could feel that something broke in his torso. The barrel of his chest was distorted when Manger first pulled him from the water. Additional ribs cracked during resuscitation, but Manger assured her that was normal. The color of the water that emerged from his lungs were not. They were not able to stop the bleeding naturally, and her project only just figured out how to use the aura she had been forcing into it. With the stored aura, they were able to bring Dove's aura back to a level where his bleeding slowed. However, no progress was made on manually restoring his consciousness or his figure. "Not exactly what I meant though."

Her lens looked up at him. "What do you mean? I was hurting him."

"And? He wouldn't be this messed up if this wasn't a repeat injury. He didn't heal from the last fall he had, and this one made the last, worse."

"How do you know?"

"He told me," grunted Manger. "And when I said you were killing him, I meant mentally. Crippling him. Making it so if he ever found real human interaction, he'd be mangled. Unable to shift gears."

"After all, humans are creatures of habit."

"Exactly." Manger let his words settle on the surface of the water. "But since you're sentient, that changes things."

"How so?"

"How awkward and socially stilted was the boy when you met him."

She thought for a moment. "Quite."

"Sounds about right." Manger fished through his teeth with his tongue, as he digested the information. "How did you meet him?"

"He found the little hole I was squirreled away into. Intended to remain there until he found a reason to leave."

"And why did he leave?"

"We. We left because an outside agent made an offer for the hole."

"And waiting on the offer would have resulted in less than ideal results for the both of you." Ventured Manger.

"Indeed."

"And the pet project?"

"That involves the input of a man named Mister Skink."

"The name means nothing to me."

"Understood. Mister Skink was the pseudonym of a sergeant who managed a prison bunker. Controlled the bunker with fear and misinformation."

"Sounds like a nasty individual."

"One could say as much. He did what he believed was required."

"For his research?"

Penny took an additional millisecond to process. "I am not sure how shallow or how complex he was. He always took the time to explain just enough to discourage questions, and just enough to leave his audience in the dark."

"So, how is his nature responsible for that?" Asked Manger as he gestured towards the droid.

"He insisted that if I disliked inevitability, then I should attempt to circumnavigate it. Since it is an inevitability, I started on my project."

"Making that."

"Making that."

Manger shook his head in disbelief. "And the body? Did he provide that as well?"

"No, the body was obtained from the Wall?"

"Which wall?" Deadpanned Manger. "There are many walls."

"I believe that is dubbed the Stone Mile."

He held up his hand. "Hold up, what? One does not simply assault the Mile."

"Simply, we did not." Admitted Penny. "Details are not required, but that is the location from which we sourced the droid."

"Right." Manger watched as Dove's chest shuddered with each breath.

"He does not have much time."

"He really doesn't." Manger's stern face was one of profound acceptance. Sadness, yes, but not to a level which prevented him from acting. "Let's not pretend with the fishing mirage. We'll head straight for the coast. Any point in specific?"

"Potentially." Sated Penny. "Do you know of any sea cliffs overlooking the ocean?"

"You're going to need to be more specific."

"If you could, please look at this picture." Penny pulled up an image on her screen. "Do you recognize this scenery?"

Manger squinted at the image and nodded. "Somewhat. Been around the coast so many times that a lot of it merges together. But that should be only a forty-mile strip. That work for you?"

"That would be most excellent, Phillip Manger. Thank you for your assistance."

"You're welcome. Sorry for trying to kill you."

"Apology accepted. I understand."


	67. Day 67

Dove opened his eyes. It was dark. An oblong sphere of blackness, defining the walls of this prison. There before him was him. An identical him. A perfect copy. As if he was staring into a mirror.

"Who are you?"

"You."

"You're different."

"I know."

"What happened?"

"I don't know," blinked Dove. "What happened to you?"

Dove blinked. "I don't remember." Dove felt a viscous liquid begin filling up his space, pooling around his ankles, sticking like glue.

"Whatever happened, it looks like you could use some help."

Hands reached for reached hands. "Thank you. What do I do?"

"Do I do what?"

Dove stared at the mirror for a moment. For a moment, the mirror stared at Dove. "We aren't the same anymore."

"We aren't the same anymore."

"I'm not the same person I was."

"You are not the same person you thought you were."

"Are you really me?"

"Yes. At least I was."

"I thought you didn't know."

"I thought you knew."

"What do you mean?"

"She knows."

"Who is she?" The liquid sloshed around their shins. "What does she know?"

"With her, you end. Without her, you disappear."

"Why don't you just tell it to me straight."

"Straight me to it, tell just you. Don't. Why."

"You're not even being a proper reflection anymore. Why even bother!"

"Because it's the only way you can make sense of this."

And with that, the goop stopped at knee level, and he disappeared.

* * *

His eyes flickered open. A quiet exhale drifted from his face. Things had definitely changed. Phil was dealing with something concerning with Penny. While he could ask, he felt that it wasn't his place. He flexed his aura. Something was still off. Meeting himself was bizarre. Even if his bits had been a bit shaken, it was surreal. He felt his aura concentrate around his eyes, and the world entered a new hue of emotions: anger, sadness, guilt, pain. His semblance. What was his own name? Was his name Dove? He stared down at his hands. How many people did he kill? Did he feel regret? Was he human? What defines a human? Species? He stared down into the water. His face stared back. His metallic face.


	68. Day 68

"So, here we are again." Snarkily commented Dove, as he sat in the muck.

Dove looked at Dove. "Jokes aside, we need you to wake up."

Dove splashed his hand into the water. "It's not that easy."

Dove nodded. "I know."

"You know, it's going to get really confusing if we're both Dove."

"How so? It's just us two in here."

"For when I leave."

"True…" Dove looked around the hallowed space. "But which one of us is the Dove?"

"I think I am?"

"I think so too."

"So, what do we call you? Dave?"

Dove thought for a moment. Then he nodded. "Sure. Dave. I can work with that."

"Alright. So, Dave, how long have you been alive."

"As long as you have. I'm you."

Dove groaned, splashing the water about. "No, I meant as Dave."

"Oh, as Dave." Dave rubbed his chin as he thought. "Maybe two weeks? Not sure."

Dove looked up at himself. "How come?"

"Think it had something to do with how I was just dregs of you piled up in the form of another."

"And your system did a system update, based on my version."

"Compiling my information based on your version, yeah."

Dove nodded along as he mulled it over. "So, you're me from two weeks ago."

"Eh, it would be closer to, 'I'm you, but with a month of deviation.'" Corrected Dave.

"So… that would have been back before Skink, right?"

"Partially. Remember, some parts of me were taken before Skink, some after Rot. But, otherwise, that's who I am."

"So, a less experienced version of me?"

"Seriously, what part of the fact I'm your potato peelings is hard to understand."

"It doesn't help that you're terrible at explaining things."

"No, we're actually pretty good at it," jabbed Dave, "You're just not wanting me to get to what I was going to get at."

"Which is that you're going to replace me. I know."

"I guess you do. I guess you're not that dumb, after all."

"Yeah. Not the brightest-" Began Dove

"But, not the dumbest either." Finished Dave.

"So, who's idea was it that you'd replace me?"

"Skink's. Supposedly."

"According to Penny."

"According to Penny."

"So, you're going to kill me?"

"Dude, no." Dave stepped back offended. "I'm not some hall of mirrors version of you. C'mon!"

"Right, right." Nodded Dove with a solemn look on his face. "Just thought you would… you know…"

"You referring to the fact that suicide seems like an easy choice in this hellscape, or the fact that I may want to give myself mercy?"

"But you're me."

"But I'm you."

The two sat in silence for a moment, listening to the quiet sloshing of liquid. "So, how much longer do you think I have?"

"Don't know." Dave sifted his fingers through the ichor. "But I do know you should make time for them before you go. And if not Monger, at least do it for Penny."

"Right." Dove stood up. "Say, what are they doing right now?"

"Think they're looking for land. Penny is trying to find a specific landmark on the coast."

"And idea which one it is?"

"Nope. Sorry."

"Nah, don't be. You've been busy."

"Sure I have."

Dove squinted at Dave. "Was that meant to be sarcasm?"

"Not intentionally, but let's say yes."

"I should have expected this."

"I mean, I am basically you."

"This is true."

The two nodded. "You do know Manger tried to kill Penny, right?"

Dove looked flabbergasted. "What? No, I didn't. How come?"

"Thought she was leading to your mental unwinding. Thought it would be healthier to be without her."

"That's malarkey!" Then Dove hesitated. "Did he actually know she was alive?"

"Nope."

"Ah, then I guess it was just an understanding. That's a wee bit awkward."

"Especially since that grimm got attracted to us by her negativity."

"Incredibly so."

"Yep."

The two awkwardly stood around each other. "So," started Dove. "What next?"

"We probably get you to dig your own grave, save a bit of effort."

Dove snickered. "Eh, fair enough." Dove slugged through the muck up to a mask. "So, mind helping me get everything set back up?"

Dave nodded. "Sure. See you soon."

* * *

His eyes snapped open in a coughing fit. Blood splattered on the deck. Hands adjusted him and helped him into a more comfortable position. A metallic face greeted him. Dove nodded and gave a look of thanks, before the droid walked back to Monger and Penny. He couldn't help but smile as they mobbed him.


	69. Day 69

Dave supported Dove as they moved onto land, weight supported by his metal frame. Monger gave his regards and asked if he was required. Frankly, Dove wanted him to not get in trouble with the authorities, and, well, Monger had served his part. He gave his farewells and had crushed Dove's frame with his wiry arms. An anguished scream convinced him to stop, but the tears were mutual. Dove said his final farewells to him. Dave, carrying the weight of three people moves up the coarse beach slowly.

"It's nice seeing some green for once."

Dove coughed in agreement. "I… like it."

"Yep." Nodded Dave as he inched closer to the loamy soft grass consuming the hill. "I kind of miss this grass. Not that I can touch it."

Penny interrupted the monologue. "Wait, how would you miss the grass if you did not exist until a month ago."

"Oh, right," groaned Dave. "We need to talk, Penny."

"How… come? Wait, how are you so coherent?"

Dave shifted the nearly comatose Dove on his shoulder. "Penny, first off, my name is Dave, and I am a derivative of Dove. And you basically cloned him without our consent."

"What exactly do you mean, Dave."

"I am Dove. Except, apparently not, since you used your aura or semblance or whatever to make me." Balked Dave. "It's sort of confusing and involves you dumping my aura, and infusing it with your own to Frankenstein your buddy here."

Penny paused for a moment. "Frankenstein was the scientist."

"I know, doc." Sneered the robot, the best he could. "And I wonder who made me from a dying guy and brought me to life without his permission."

"Me," quietly stated Penny.

"Exactly." Dave continued up the slope, feet sloshing through the mud. Not having to deal with permafrost was nice.

"What would you like me to do?"

"Frankly, nothing." Grouched Dave. "I sort of like being alive, he's sort of dying and has other priorities to worry about, and you're sort of a box. No offense."

"I am not sure how to respond to that."

"I would like an apology." Stated Dave. "For someone who apologized a lot, you're not very sorry about this."

"I am sorry Dave."

"And?"

"I am sorry Dove."

Dove gurgled in response.

"He accepts your apology," translated Dave. "But doesn't change the fact that we are going to need to spend some time talking through this. You and I really need to talk."

"We are talking now."

"Indeed, I guess we are." Dave grumbled as his foot slipped, forcing him to drop Dove into the grass. "Drat."

With remarkable concern, Penny asked, "Is he alright?"

"What? No. He's dying."

"I meant from the fall."

"Oh, that." Dave hefted Dove back onto his shoulder. "I mean, I don't think it makes a difference at this point. The man's missing toes, been dropped off building sized grimm twice, and has taken multiple trucks to the chest. Not sure if even dropping him off of another cliff would do much else."

"Why would you say that? Should you not have more care for him?"

"He's literally me! Am I not allowed to make jokes about my own wellbeing? Or did you forget that you, quite literally, made me to be his replacement. Or are you just avoiding that fact?" Ranted Dave. Penny remained silent. "Yeah that's what I thought. Speaking of which, what were you even thinking when you coded some of me?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know which lines I'm talking about."

"Oh."

"Yeah, those lines."

"Yep."

"Not going to say anything in defense of yourself?"

"I have nothing to say in my defense. It is as it appears. Did it work?"

"I don't know, honestly." Said Dave, "Might be the one protocol that's keeping me from running straight into the ocean."

"Please be joking. Our experiences mean more than that."

"Yeah, his and yours do. I'm just his replacement because you don't want to deal with the fact that he will eventually leave you, so you made a copy which won't ever die on you. A literal backup."

"Are you more upset about the fact I made a back-up, or the fact that you are the back-up?" Asked Penny.

"I don't know anymore." Admitted Dave. "Frankly, I think you've put a lot of strain on the relationship by doing that. But…."

"It is not irreparable."

"Pretty much. Just is going to take time."

"And that is the one thing we have, is it not?"

"Yeah. And-"

"And each other." Interrupted Penny.

"And the jury is still out on that one."

"Please do not leave me. I apologize. I am sorry."

"Was going to say, 'and a dying original', but screw it, forgot the punchline."

"I still do not fully understand how you are able to make these kinds of jokes at this time."

"I'm literally going to be attending my own funeral, what is there not to joke about?"


	70. Day 70

Dave lifted the phone for a comparison. While there had been some minute wear, the grave was the right one. And his final wish was his final wish. Technically. It was weird to think about, if he had to be entirely honest. Dave leaned Dove's slump body upon the gravestone, letting him read the text with his blurry eyes. Dave had taken to wearing Dove's car armor and mask. The armor would have been too stressful on his body, and the fact that Dave did not feel protected without the armor. That and the fact that there was already a rack designed onto the back plate to strap on Penny. Hard to tell if he acted out of convenience or security.

"I'll leave you two to have your final chat, alright?"

"Thank you… Dave." Answered Penny, as Dave walked off to find a suitable headstone.

* * *

A gruff hand adjusted the rudder. Did he feel guilty? Potentially, but he knew the kid wasn't doing that great when he first met him. His boots came to rest upon a crab cage. There were some things that you couldn't change. And somethings that you were just along for the ride. He had to wonder what happened to the settlement he came from, and if he was happy. Even when things suck, you have to find things to keep yourself going. At least, that's what he told himself. For the kids. Phillip Manger looked out to sea and poured out his canteen. "For you, Dove."

* * *

Rot found himself coming to the Wall lately. Looking out across the melting snow, wondering what happened to the not-templar. He had grown. They weren't really boys anymore, and he didn't feel like fear was required anymore. They stopped messing around with the cultists, and started actually doing things, like maintenance and farming. Nothing to be planted but having some of the boys plow instead of meander made changes in the boys. A chance to feel useful, for many of them. He still knew that they would have to wait for the snow to melt away, but even then, they would have a head start compared to last year. Hypothetically.

A finger tapped his shoulder. "Sup. Am I interrupting anything?" Asked the petite woman crouching next to him. Go, as the man had taken to calling her. It stuck.

"Not really." Rot admitted. "Just thinking."

"Things really have changed."

"You know, it doesn't seem like it, but I guess things have."

She smiled at him. "No more fabled Wall, no more getting at each other's necks. Just two groups of shmucks trading with each other."

"Unofficially."

"Unofficially, of course." She rolled her eyes. She had nice hazel eyes. "Noticed you got another tally."

Rot took off his helmet and rubbed the etched visor. "Yep, number eight. Was a bit of a challenge, but, sometimes, it's not that bad to ask for help."

"Lose anyone?"

"Thankfully, not this time."

"Noticed you still wear the mask."

Rot slid off the templar's mask. "Of course. Have to flaunt something over you, you know?"

"Of course, how could I forget." Drawled Go. "Our glorious leader Rot, cannot fail, and must always be the winner."

"And don't forget it."

"Yeah, yeah, sure."

The cold wind gently drifted over the hills. While normally biting, it was a comfort of sorts before it said farewell for spring. "So, what brought you up here?"

She thought for a moment before speaking. "I get tired of the crazies sometimes, and this just sort of ended up as where I go in these times."

"I get it." Comforted Rot. "That's just how it is."

"Fervently praying is how it be sometimes. Wish I could get them to do something else."

"Tell me about it." Rot groaned. "I have enough trouble getting my boys to do anything at all."

"I thought they were shaping up?"

"Some are, but some others are…"

"Problem children?"

"Yep."

"Eh, give them some time. They'll come around."

"One could only hope."

The two opened their canteens and made a silent toast.

* * *

Mr. Skink drummed his fingers on the desk. "Just to make this crystal clear, Major, what happened here never happened. Alright?" The shivering Major nodded. Whether the man was shaking from fear, pain, or the cold was not a concern for Skink. "Good. Thank you for assisting with your replacement." The rat of a man nodded and scurried off. Mr. Skink could not understand how such creatures like him had even survive this long.

Whatever, it did not matter. Mr. Skink was enjoying his new gloves. They were not as baggy as his last set, even if the fingers were slightly longer than his own. Mr. Skink logged onto the new Major's terminal using his prints, only to see a message. One he was expecting for a long time. Unfortunately, he would have to regretfully inform them that their agent was currently incapacitated, for the long term. Looks like they would not have a reason to station more troops at his Keep.

On a similar note, the child was developing quite well. The ring was the right amount of motivation. A precious jewel used as temptation for a little girl to develop and prove herself. While a bit out of parameters, he was feeling generous. Sue him. But he still needed to exercise patience. Without patience, he would be no better than a flighty bird. Hopefully her tests were going as well as his.

* * *

The time had come. It was time for him to clear out his desk. He was getting promoted. Frankly, he wanted more than anything to leave this dreaded office but moving out was still a massive hassle. 508 collected the miscellaneous trash piling up around his little cubby space. Paper balls littered corners, and long finished deadlines checkered the walls and panels. Speaking of which, when did he even place that note? He peeled off the note from the light and saw the long dead light of the Mint. He couldn't help but snort. It had been ages since he went there. While he did trade for it, it was sort of collecting dust at the moment. The document he got took ages to reformat into a readable copy, but even if it was a bit of a prick move to do, he had to respect the sheer audacity the man had. Just, not enough that he wouldn't shoot him on sight. Ah, good times.

A private's head leaned in. "Sarge, you cleaned up in there?"

"Not yet kid, just reminiscing over a few things." Grinned 508. "Mind making us a pot of coffee?"

"How come, sir?"

"Just want to taste it. Besides, you're going to need it more than I will."

* * *

"So, it's back to just us two?"

"I guess so. Sorry."

"Don't be, Penny. I thought we agreed not to do this."

"I should not have done that. It was wrong of me to do that."

"Maybe," coughed Dove. "Even so, don't take it personally."

"But you, he, is upset with me."

"And?"

Penny was silent for a moment. "And it is my fault that you are dying."

"No it isn't."

"Yes, it is."

"No," Affirmed Dove, "It isn't. I was going to die soon anyways."

"I sped up the process."

"Penny. Just, no. Stop. Don't blame yourself."

"But…"

Dove's chest deflated. "I'm glad it's like this."

"How so?"

"Let me explain it this way: I was dying. Not only physically, but spiritually. I came to the Mint to die." Dove's eyes shut. "I lost hope."

"And then?"

"I met you. I found company. I no longer was alone. I wasn't alone. You gave me purpose."

"Purpose?"

"Purpose. And, so, drifting away, being with you isn't so bad. I'm not alone."

"But… I need you."

"I know…" drawled Dove. "That's why you made Dave, right?"

Penny was silent for a moment as she looked across the ocean for the two of them. "I'm going to miss you, Dove."

"I'm glad I met you, Penny."

And with that, Dove died.


End file.
